Everything is yellow, brown, and grey. In the valley below the fog waxes and
wanes, lapping at the trees below, and then within seconds surges up the hill
to cover the house. Dark mountains that were partially obscured by low clouds
now vanish.
Pockets of air of varying temperatures and condensing water vapors...ecological systems giving birth to these phenomena...the mountains and the air passing over them and bodies of water, forming ghostly oceans that rise and recede. Great beauty.
It feels like a gyp, here at the end of November and dismal rain instead of beautiful snow. At least there's the fog.
Arctic ice the size of the continental US melted this month. It feels strange to be sitting out here thinking of such things, isolated up on this hill looking out over the valley, all so peaceful and majestic yet under the impression that we are doing a terrible amount of damage to the very carefully-tuned environment we’ve found ourselves surviving in.
Pockets of air of varying temperatures and condensing water vapors...ecological systems giving birth to these phenomena...the mountains and the air passing over them and bodies of water, forming ghostly oceans that rise and recede. Great beauty.
It feels like a gyp, here at the end of November and dismal rain instead of beautiful snow. At least there's the fog.
Arctic ice the size of the continental US melted this month. It feels strange to be sitting out here thinking of such things, isolated up on this hill looking out over the valley, all so peaceful and majestic yet under the impression that we are doing a terrible amount of damage to the very carefully-tuned environment we’ve found ourselves surviving in.
And yet the machine churns on almost of its own accord.
