Fade to gray

My good friend Scheherazade has insisted for some time that I must create a Blog Of My Own. Surprisingly, she has been less insistent that I read hers. She is a modest person, for an extrovert, and a worthy writer. More about her later.

If there is a later. May Shrink or Fade describes my career, in a double-entendre sort of way, and also applies to this Blog, to which this may be the very last post. A one-post wonder. Wonder... wonder... wonder how many Blogs die on the first post? 97% seems a likely number.

The whole world was fading this morning, thickly wrapped in fog. Driving across the deserted, rickety-appearing bridge spanning Eggemoggin Reach, I could see neither end from the middle, nor the water below, nor the top of the cables above. Just at the apex of the arch, a huge peregrine falcon sat on the rail, facing inward, as if counting the non-existent traffic. I wondered why he would sit there so patiently, and tolerate my zooming VW so close by-- then realized that if he flew even a few feet, he'd be lost in three dimensions of zero-visibility. One often mistakenly feels that animals must be omnicapable, they are better at so many things than we are. Seeing through fog, though, is probably not one of them. I'm working on it myself. So far, no luck.