The mists of the mid-Atlantic give rise to many ghosts at twilight and at dawn. Some say it is just the shape of familiar things under a veil that makes it all seem so mysterious or they say it is the fog creeping into history and memory that moves the imagination. Others insist these strangers of the half-light are the actual restless spirits of the once-living encouraged by the cover of haze to look for that broken piece of a former life that they can't leave behind. No one knows for sure and I don’t either but I'm afraid of ghosts and prefer not to find out. If the ghosts are out there, I am grateful that they prefer to remain shrouded while I stay safe in my well-lighted house.

I bring this up for the obvious reason that I have chosen the title Misty Patch Notebook for my blog. The landscape around here is all hills and hollows and we live in a hollow subject to frequent heavy humidity, mist, fog and drizzle. There is another low spot nearby named for this iconic weather situation. I like the poetic sound of it and I like that it’s evocative of the patch of earth I inhabit. This notebook will reflect the preoccupations of one woman’s daily walk through this landscape. And perhaps I will, in spite of myself, become acquainted with some of it’s ghosts as well.