Watching the sun rise this morning, coffee in hand, the sky really is a rose gray . Like the color gray of a mourning dove. Rosy gray. ….”the rosy fingers of dawn”…..Actually, we are going to have a foggy morning here in SW Florida – typical of late winter. The sun will burn through by mid-morning.
As I write the above, I can see my old English Prof hovering above me, red pen in hand. He hated, hated, hated clichés. Rhetoric 101 is where I realized how much of my speech was littered with clichés and proverbs. I’m a late bloomer. By the time I was sitting in Rhetoric 101, I was already a grandmother. So – as the cliché says – better late than never!
Was it the author Taylor Caldwell who wrote about some southern characters whose speech is cluttered with all those old proverbs? When I read that short story I thought “Gad! Those women sound just like me” I’d sure hate to have to listen to me for very long.