∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
The weather has finally made it to Preveza from the Peristeri... down from heights that are just a few kilometers north of here, but many, many meters UP! Friday and Saturday suggested its power; and last night I saw my first thunderstorm on the mountain.
Since I am apprised that this weather will persist through the week (and ensure my hermitage), I launched myself into a short walk this morning, feeling how *crisp* water can be when pulled into these forms.
Even as I write, the brief clearing is gone and a lacy fog has drifted into my garden. The Gods are curious - well, we are curious about each other. One of Their emissaries blasted through a main window last night, setting a small hurricane loose in the house.
As water poured through the windows, I climbed into my son's leather coat to venture outdoors and close the shutters. Despite the turbulence, I was surprised by the warmth of these winds -- anemos in Greek. They may have come from the north, but were altogether chthonos, born from caves and riverbeds. Once I figured out their provenance (the Powers are either olympian or titanic all up in here, and woe to the human who cannot tell the difference), I gently praised them back to what we call the 'out-of-doors.'
(As 'in-of-doors' is ever only temporary in this part of the world.)
Zöés Thea.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
* The post title is a riff on Richard Wilbur's poem "Epistemology." (Look it up, lazyboy...)
The weather has finally made it to Preveza from the Peristeri... down from heights that are just a few kilometers north of here, but many, many meters UP! Friday and Saturday suggested its power; and last night I saw my first thunderstorm on the mountain.
Even as I write, the brief clearing is gone and a lacy fog has drifted into my garden. The Gods are curious - well, we are curious about each other. One of Their emissaries blasted through a main window last night, setting a small hurricane loose in the house.
As water poured through the windows, I climbed into my son's leather coat to venture outdoors and close the shutters. Despite the turbulence, I was surprised by the warmth of these winds -- anemos in Greek. They may have come from the north, but were altogether chthonos, born from caves and riverbeds. Once I figured out their provenance (the Powers are either olympian or titanic all up in here, and woe to the human who cannot tell the difference), I gently praised them back to what we call the 'out-of-doors.'
(As 'in-of-doors' is ever only temporary in this part of the world.)
Zöés Thea.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
* The post title is a riff on Richard Wilbur's poem "Epistemology." (Look it up, lazyboy...)
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