Ain't No Sunshine

Here in Maine, today never arrived. While the calendar says Monday, November 24, it just never showed up. Instead, we had daylong dusk, heavy to ridiculously heavy rain, and dense fog like in Hitchcok's "Dial M for Murder," or whichever one it was where Doris Day was being followed by Rex Harrison, or possibly Ray Milland. (It might have been Grace Kelly.)

My point is that from six in the morning, which is when I got up, until right now at 4:17 in the afternoon, the sun was not involved. It was downright scary, and this is from someone who always finds those bright, sunny days annoyingly pushy, sort of like that spinster aunt who's always nagging you to go outside and get some fresh air. Still, without even a hint of the sun--whether hidden behind clouds or reflected off of something somewhere far away-- it might as well be night, except it's day. The world takes on a science-fiction quality that is quite disturbing, giving rise to spooky fantasies about off-the-charts global warming a thousand years from now.

We all take the sun rising each morning for granted, but after one of these days, I will kiss the hem of its garment the next time I see it. (I love mixing metaphors.)