The Mist Rising

Wake-up feel: 7.

Up. The muscles need stretching — the exercises, then out.

The days start later here. I am still learning the rhythm. The mountain stands to the east; the sun is seen later, and the warmth comes later with it.

The winding pathway up the mountain — a plai, the word this land has for it. To the right, a steep side falling to the stream, which unceasingly brings the mountain's water down to the valley below. To the left, a steep slope going up. Behind me, mist rising from the valley. The first time I have seen it rise like this.

Up toward the mountain top, and above it, blue sky. Slowly the mist rises and covers the mountain.

The old reading in these mountains: mist that climbs from the valley to cover the peaks carries rain behind it; mist that sinks back down gives a fair day. Flocks were moved on signs like this. The stream takes the water down; the mist takes it back up.

The moon is the old moon now — five nights past its full, rising late, standing high toward morning, its light on the wane while its arc still climbs. Its dark comes in nine nights, on the day the old column keeps the Beheading. In the valley's count these are days for gathering in, not for beginning.

What goes up comes back down at some point.

Day 74
Verkhovyna, Carpathian Mountains, Ukraine
© 2026 Michel Garand | A Pilgrim's Journey | CC BY-SA 4.0
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