For most of Thursday, our tiny micro-climate was draped in mist. On the sound, foghorns boomed. It was wonderfully melancholic. A true presentiment of autumn.
The neighbour’s cat came and hunched down on the deck railing. He scored some fish skin–which he accepted as his due–but then wouldn’t leave. He was out there for hours as the foghorns hooted and the trees stood utterly motionless. Apparently the rest of the city was basking in delicious sunshine. But not us. The mist thickened. Then around 2 pm the mist thinned and the sun broke through:
The cat stayed long enough to soak up some rays, then left for the next stop on his moocher’s round. Life as we know it resumed.