The Dead of Night

Just as there are things that cannot be sufficiently described in words, there are sights that cannot be captured by a camera.  Many of the hours between sunfall and sunrise, when the light is most distant from us, are like that.



We were beset by an eldritch fog the other night, a fog that may have lurked imperceptibly at the edges of our senses were it not for the dazzling brightness of a full moon just over the mountain.  Absent illumination, we may have felt that the air was just a little thicker than normal, that the sounds of the night were just a little closer, but just another dark night save for a creepiness we could not quite place.  The night’s strange echoes and odd ticks may have been attributed to our own over-active imaginations.


But the moon’s light shew us the true source of our unease, a fog so thick you could grasp it in your fist.  The moon hung pale and cold like a distant sun over an alien planet.  This was the stuff of werewolves and zombie apocalypses.  The very air glowed with a phosphorescence that is hard to describe, let alone photograph.


If you look at that picture and don’t immediately think our house is about to be devoured by Cthulhu, I just don’t know what to say to you.


Not only does the camera fail to capture the depth, but nothing can convey the eerie sound.  The fog makes noises feel closer, like you’re in a cave.  The effect is just surreal.  Like you’ve wandered into another world, and you better not wander past the orange glow of the windows of your house, lest you become so lost you can never be found again.



If only every Halloween could be like this


Stormy Days



The winds have been so loud at night that Inky’s been hiding under the bed.  If the wind isn’t howling, the rain is hammering on the roof.  I turned the outside lights on one night at 2 a.m. and the rain was going every direction there was – up, down, sideways, diagonal, you name it.  It felt like we should have been rocking back and forth like we were out to sea ourselves.

Sometimes the winds drive all the clouds away and you get a clear shot of the sky.  We had this big cyclopean moon up there like a flashlight shining on our little snowglobe.  And yet, all the spiders and snails and birds and assorted critters out there are doing just fine.  Wind hasn’t blown anyone away yet.  Including us or our house, though we’ve wondered when that’s going to happen.


Ironically, most of the tourists have gone home now after spending a lovely summer here thinking we have the best weather on the whole planet and they can’t wait until next May when they come back and visit us.  Great.  See you then, guys.