The sun did not rise this morning.
That’s a steal of, or as I like to frame it, an homage to, a line from The List of Adrian Messenger. In that 1959 detective novel, the sun did not rise in London due to a “pea souper”: a thick, thick fog that blotted out the sun (and that hid a cunning murderer, as it turned out). Today, the sun did not rise in Texas due to a thunderstorm so broad, and with clouds so dark, that the sunrise never broke through.
There was no warm glow in the east; no sliver of light brightening to a burn-your-retinas orb. At the scheduled time of the sunrise, the sky was so dark that our GPS kept the display on night mode. It continued in that mode for more than an hour. All day–ALL DAY–as we headed west, we never saw even a faint lightening along the horizon in the rear-view mirrors.
And yet, even without a proper sunrise, a lighter sky did eventually come: first from the north, oddly enough, and then from blue sky in the east.
The sun did not rise this morning.
Well, of course it did rise. We just didn’t see it. That’s the way it goes sometimes.
Isabel
It’s eerie when that happens. Once, when we lived in Manitoba, I drove home from Brandon in a sandstorm. The air was an eerie tan colour, and I could only see about two car-lengths ahead of the car.
Tom
Tom – I haven’t been in any sandstorms (yet) but that doesn’t sound like much fun. Along Interstate 10 in the south, there are stretches of highway marked with signs telling you exactly what to do if the visibility drops to zero! Yikes.
Today in Ottawa we woke to a granular, white-out fog that has lasted 4 hours, so far. From the 22nd floor, the view is as if a cone of bright, white Tupperware has been placed over our building.
Years ago, John and I were staying in a brand-new (Victorian house) B&B in Vermont owned by two Ur-Yuppies. The decor was Laura Ashley threw up. The bed sheets were Egyptian 1000-threat count… the guests soaps in the shape of unicorns… Anyway, there was an alcove off the main floor available to us to watch VHS movies and we chose Casablanca. The husband — apparently never having seen the movie — came in to see if we needed any tisane, organic popcorn or whatever and saw the point in the movie where the doomed lovers are looking into each other’s eyes, remembering Paris… and the B&B guy looks at the screen and say, “Wow! — a real pea souper,” and leaves.
Barbara – 🙂 I haven’t heard that idiom. Tear-jerker, yes.
Sorry, I assumed I had noted that it was really foggy behind them.
My reply WAS about fog in Ottawa that day. 😀
Barbara – Ah, now I’ve got it. 🙂