Another day shrouded in grey. Winter in mainland Switzerland often means days on end of fog – thick fog that engulfs the village and obscures the hills around, or high fog that obscures the sun. I’ve become a sun worshiper since I live here. When the sun does appear, whether it bursts through the grey in brilliance or as a wane light valiantly pushing through , I’ll jump up from my office chair into my coat and boots and head out for a walk. It’s amazing what a change in mood the sun evokes in me. My husband finds it strange. I find it normal. Light is essential to life, right? And I am life. I need light!
The fog is symbolic for what’s going on in parts of my life and in the world. There are issues that seem cloaked by a permanent grey fog. Then sometimes there will be a day, or days, when things take a bright turn, like the sun bursting out. The morning newspaper or the evening news has little in the way of sun to report. Whole nations lie under the dense thick fog of repressive governments or civil war. Terrorist attacks are reaching the cities close to us. We don’t feel that safe anymore.
When I feel powerless against the thick fog that hides the sun that I know is there just above us I wonder if that’s how people feel in less privileged countries. They know the sun is there, and they know it shines over our country. Is it any wonder so many refugees are seeking asylum here?

P.S. Robert decided I needed a few hours of bright sun and took me into the hills above the village. Life is good!