Originally uploaded by miss_distance
While meandering down a dirt road (“Old Northeast”) a local guy in a pickup truck muddier than mine stops, rolls down his window, wonders what I’m doing. Rollie, I think he says his name is. “Waiting for the golden light” I tell him. He nods. “Soon.” I tell him I haven’t seen this much sunlight in months. He’s got a brother-in-law in “da U.P.” and says he understands. I look back out at the sod-slumps, and see the fog rolling back in, fast and dark as a spring storm, blowing in from the northeast. “This much snow-melt” he says, “we’re bound to get fog.” Here it comes, I tell him. Here it comes.