The title of this post belongs to a section of Washington, DC, and the Foggy Bottom metro stop always tickles me whenever I see it listed anywhere. On this morning, I’m using it to convey the fog that surrounded our pool in these transitory times of summer seeping into fall. No one is sorrier to see summer go than Andy and me, particularly after such a piss-poor summer that had more rain than spring and fall combined. A rather unfair set of circumstances given last year’s pool fiasco where every day without a functional pool soared to 90 and shone with full unfiltered sunlight. This summer hasn’t felt like summer at all, leaving us in sorry shape for making it through another winter. There are fewer memories to see us through, less Vitamin D coursing through our veins.
That said, I’m not going to lament the passing of summer, especially as there’s nothing to be gained for such wallowing. Better to embrace the change about to take place, lean into the impending season and celebrate the harvest. The gardens, in spite of (or perhaps because of) all the rain have performed fairly well. The ferns usually scorch by the end of July and persisted throughout August, while the Chinese dogwood ‘blooms’ lasted for months – a palliative part of sacrificing all the sunshine. And I’ve made a concerted effort to get into the pool at least once a day when the rain has broken, which forced me to take a meditative pause when my regular meditation fell by the wayside. Living may not be getting any easier, but our coping mechanisms are being refined. Life is about editing and improving and dealing with what we have on hand – not being given the perfect set of circumstances from the beginning. On such foggy mornings, the battle to break out of the haze serves as an opportunity to create our own clarity – and one of the lessons of this summer has been how to turn gray days into something brighter. That starts from the inside.
