Thirteen straight days of monotonously suffocating fog here in the southern Willamette Valley—OK, perhaps it’s not that Stephen Kingish, more like Groundhog Day without the snow, but still. As I drove to Thompson’s Mills on Tuesday the fog seeped from the farmlands of Lane and Linn counties, cutting visibility as it rolled along in billowing curtains. The natural light filtering inside the mill was, of course, as drab as a soggy woolen sweater. By sundown thick as pea soup wouldn’t be a cliché, and after three years I finally had a reason to use the 4Runner’s fog lights.
I think the pervasive grayness is behind my attraction to black and white abstractions this month. Call it a Rorschach Test phase, but I’ll be happy to get the foggy blinders off and stand in real sunshine for a while.
UPDATE: This morning I filled our bird feeders under a partly cloudy sky, and my neighbor’s field had reappeared, sprinkled with…sunshine.
“The two basic items necessary to sustain life are sunshine and coconut milk.” —Dustin Hoffman