mabel is the fog. the last two mornings i've woken up to this amazingly beautiful dense fog that surrounds our home, our land. after reading the poem leigh pea shared i know this is true.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
(T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock)
i watched the fog roll in the evening after she shared this and as i walked down to greet mabel in her place under the great oak tree, the birds lingered especially close to me on branches. i looked up into the misty sky and saw 5 Herons flying, then heard and saw 2 ducks passing. Mabel is in my air, i can feel her little furry wildness dancing in delight. this oak tree has always been a symbol of our homestead. i think it has been growing for years and years for this special purpose...it was going to take something this enormous to house my wild soul, mabel.
ps...thank you everyone for your kindness and support.
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