Sunday, March 24, 2013

I’ve heard fog compared to pea soup and always thought it peculiar because fog is ethereally white, not green.  The thickness is the comparator, I suppose, and not the color but the vision of green fog doesn’t leave my imagining.  As we look out tonight toward Anchorage, Beverly gives us verbal updates…..Anchorage is gone….Eagle river is dimming….only the lights of Skyline are left….we are all alone in the world.  This happens often, and I never tire of having the rest of the world screened out while we are left in our mountain fortress in the clouds or sometimes, above the clouds.  That really is the most beautiful; luxuriating in the sun with the cloud’s ceiling below us, seeing not another human or habitation.  Some might say we are spoiled at times.  We are.