Clear and Foggy

There's some sort of karmic balance mechanism at work, I guess. If it's cloudy and rainy overnight, we get a morning that might be clear, might be cloudy, might be rainy, but we don't get the valley filled to the brim with fog.

On the other hand, if it's one of those clear, crisp nights where when I look straight up I see twenty million stars and am reminded of my own small place in the universe at the same time I feel invigorated, alive, and clear-minded - the next morning, I awake in a foggy funk, and the valley is filled solid with fog so dense you could cut it into cubes and sell it as dirty ice.

Last night was a night of a hundred million points of light - what the skygazers call a night of 'good seeing'. That meant that this morning I awoke incapable of linear thought, and so Paula and I braved the fog filled valley to vist My Favorite Starbucks, where my order of a latte and a Top Pot donut was cheerfully filled, and the latte was just right.

After breakfast, Paula headed off on a junket, and I dawdled in the parking lot long enough for two photos. The first is what was left of the overnight frost on the roof rack rail of the Subaru - weird needle like crystals that looked like little diamonds. Diamonds might be forever, but these didn't last long enough to make it back to the house.

And the second is the street light in the parking lot. I was struck by how much the street light reminded of of a fairly famous image by Edward Weston - Palm at Cuernvaca, I think the conventional title is. Call this one "Street Light in Carnation, WA (after E. Weston)" if you are feeling like I might be making art history, here.