The haze

I’m writing this on the terrace, overlooking an olive grove and a stretch of mediteranean pines. Quite windy today, but what stikes me is a haze towards the sea. The sun is pretty strong, there are no clouds, and still this fine mist makes the light seem soft and watery.

For the last 3 days I’ve been watching the growth of a mushroom in the yard, wondering just how big it will get. I know I’m supposed to mow the lawn, but I just don’t know when to do it. Am I supposed to mow it in winter as well ? I’ll check, but I’ll just have to leave that mushroom alone for the time being.

Yesterday I was writing in the same spot as today and after 15 minutes outside I noticed a constant noise. For the rest of the day I believed I had moved next to an Air Force Base and that my life will soon turn into a nightmare, with sonic booms and vicious, noisy dogfights.

But last evening, as I was driving along the beach with my wife, we noticed the huge waves and their supernatural roaring. No jets here. No wonder the restaurant Vasila, perched above the beach, closed for the winter. Were it open, the waves would have reached the kitchen and would have given a new meaning to marinara sauce.

We live on a peninsula on a peninsula on a peninsula on a peninsula on a peninsula. Poseidi, in Kassandra, in Chalkidiki, in the Balcans, in Europe.

At the tip of our small, tit-looking peninsula there is a lighthouse, described as “Powerful” by my Greek adventure partner, a.i. my wife. Last night, as we passed the “Restricted Area. Hellenic Navy Territory” sign, the beam was shining through the same haze that I see today. Eerie.

It looks like another spicy sunset today. Am I able to stare at it while sitting on the couch, with the fireplace on, do you ask? Affirmative.

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