The view from Mount Greylock in Adams.
The view from Mount Greylock in Adams. Credit: Staff Photo/Andy Castillo—

These last few weeks, temperatures across the region have crescendoed to a yearly high, pushing into the upper 90s. Add humidity and it’s been a blisteringly hot summer; more temperate respites have been few and far between. 

Last weekend, I traveled west on Interstate 90 to the Berkshires, which is home to the highest mountain in Massachusetts — Mount Greylock. With my wife, Brianna, I camped in the foothills and, the following day, I traversed its peak.

The air was cooler at the top — still humid, but cool. After a few hundred feet, sight dropped off. It was a world shrouded by whiteness, textured by a humidly refreshing breeze, like the seashore. I sat on a ledge at the peak overlooking a vast white ocean of fog that rose and fell like the tide.

Clouds slid across my view. I saw green through holes in the sheet — a distant and beautiful landscape obscured by turbulent weather.

Below, I imagined that tiny cars were creeping slowly along windy roads, and people, smaller than ants, were hurrying along nearly vacant sidewalks. Pandemic or not, modern life pushed onward.

After about half-hour of obscurity, the clouds broke for a brief period of a few minutes. The sun made its grand entrance, sweeping across farm fields and cityscapes alike, highlighting the distant ridge line of the Seven Sisters, which is a part of the Pioneer Valley’s Holyoke Range. On its own, the sun’s revelation was dramatic — a breathtaking display of nature’s power. It was made that much more exceptional by the cloud cover, without which it would have been just another day.

Contrast gives appreciation: Light would not appear to be so bright if there were not shadows; clouds make sunshine that much more dramatic; the ongoing pandemic has given us a greater appreciation for things we oftentimes take for granted — friendships; job security; health; selfless community servants; hugs.

Right now, we’re living in the fog.

But someday, the clouds will slide away and sunbeams will pierce the cover — life will return to normal — what a glorious appearance that will be.

Andy Castillo is the features editor at the Greenfield Recorder. He can be reached at acas tillo@recorder.com.