During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
I've had Poe on my mind all day, for the weather has been very like this atmospheric description of the unnamed narrator's approach to the House of Usher, that place where madness and a possibly incestuous and vampiric relationship are ready, literally, to bring down the house. It's been rainy and cloudy and generally unsettled. Good day to settle into a corner and read his stories, perhaps even blog about them. You may want to check in tomorrow at http://fairweatherlewis.blogstream.com to see what came of that.