Life at Tung Ting revolves around the typhoon, when it last came, repairing from damage, and when it’ll come next and whether they can recover enough yet. Today, we have blinding fog on the mountain. Hearing the chorus of birds early morning gives me hope. That might portend a lessening severity? I wish I was more connected to all the messages that nature gives us, instead of relying on weather reports that are usually wrong anyway.
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