Parhelion

Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun;
Not separated with the racking clouds,
But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
In this the heaven figures some event.

Henry VI, Part III: Act 2, Scene 1

Today, whilst driving to classes in Iowa City, I spied a prominent sun dog, which is the sort of term one couldn't possibly make up. (The second element in the term is attributed in some sources to Norfolk, where it may have been a corruption of dag, ultimately from the Norse.) I have chosen to take this as a good omen for the semester. Or, more accurately, the past week suggested that this will be a good semester, and I am coöpting an unrelated meteorological phenomenon as confirmation of that fact.

This semester, you see, I have finally gotten an apartment in Iowa City. The chief benefit of this is that I no longer need drive two hours every school day. In what must be a sure sign that I am a raving socialist, I find that I greatly prefer mass transit. It is remarkable how a thing like driving, that we think nothing of, can so effectively make life unpleasant. No other activity exposes us to a greater swath of the American public than does driving; driving, therefore, is the chief reminder (and an unwelcome one) of how horrible most people are. I suspect that one reason why I enjoy traveling to Europe so very much is that I never have to drive there.

But don't let me ramble on about such things. I am looking forward to my classes this semester, too. Of the three — Seventeenth-century music, a seminar on Max Reger and Karl Straube, and Counterpoint before 1600 — I find the last the most promising, as I have a well-documented interest in Renaissance polyphony.