“The French called this time of day ‘l’heure bleue.’ To the English it was ‘the gloaming.’ The very word ‘gloaming’ reverberates, echoes – the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour – carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows. During the blue nights you think the end of the day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice; the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone. Blue nights are the opposite of the dying of the brightness, but they are also its warning.” ~ Joan Didion
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” ~ Lloyd Alexander
The morning feels soft, nearly sweet. Hopefully the day will follow accordingly, but I have to run numerous errands in town today, so all bets are off. Yet . . . it all feels okay so I ain’t gonna push it, or let my cynicism get any kind of grip at all. Yeh, it’s laundry day as well. I guess the main stressor is that Taos is crawling with tourists, mask or not. My approach to all of this, taking into consideration my chronic fear and anxiety, is to kinda sorta roll with Fate and Destiny. Sounds like a plan. Cynicism and/or depression is always hanging nearby in some shadow or other – never ever far away. I don’t sense any danger though. At the moment I hear some bird chirping out at the feeder. The light overcast sky seems to be giving way to direct sunlight. I prefer the clouds today, but . . . oh whatever. Time to suck up this serenity and see if I can apply it to the practicality of the day ahead. Onward.
All is well. Goof gloriously.