Sunday, March 11, 2018
Most of my memories of Saluda were still sharp when I returned after forty years away, but two things I'd forgotten. One was the wind, that can rise from rest to roar in under half an hour, then sustain for two or three days, it's surging as constant as an ocean's surf.
The other is the fog, that can rise up into clear air in the span of a few minutes, tumble down the mountain onto the town like a tsunami, obliterating everything beyond a stone toss. Traffic slows, sounds are muted. Sometimes a creepy, or at least otherworldly tale will ride in on the stillness, and trouble my peace until I write it down.
Needless to say, the wind and the fog are unforgotten now.