Yesterday morning, I pedaled along the North Shore. On my way back, I stopped in Fort Totten. Like many military bases-turned-recreational areas, it sits on some “mighty fine” real estate. The site makes sense when you get a glimpse of the panoramic views: Continental troops could have seen Royal Navy ships approaching from a good distance away.
Were they stationed there yesterday, they would have seen mist. Would enemy warships have veiled themselves in it—and drawn closer than they might have otherwise?
Yesterday the mist portended something odious, if less sinister: humid heat. Very humid and hot, in fact—if less so than much of the West Coast last week.
Of course, being a writer and English teacher, I have to ask: What if Jay Gatsby had gazed across the cove and seen mist instead of a green light lover Daisy’s dock?
Now, I could get all pseudo-intellectual on you and blather about how hopers (Is that a word?) and dreamers, and the desperate, see that faint veridescence on the horizon and not the fog that shrouds it. Too late! Oh well..
At least I had a nice ride—and picked up some fresh Greek yogurt from Kesso on my way home.
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