fog

I like fog. It's like a big grey blanket (a cool, wet blanket, I admit) that wraps the world in a bit of mystery. Maybe it's my Maritime upbringing, so when I see it here inland, it's a tiny bit of childhood familiarity that makes me like it. There's something about looking across hazy fields at the shadows of the trees, indistinct and just suggesting the land beyond.

Last night was thick fog for our area. Of course nothing like the fog that sweeps in from the ocean, "pea soup fog" we always called it. The girls, with their Ontario upbringing, haven't seen it as much and they were amazed when I told them about driving with the window down so that you could see the line beside the car to follow the road, since you couldn't make out the road just ahead of the car. Out we ventured to take a friend home who'd been here for the evening.

No problems with the drive until we were almost home and the headlights picked up something on our lane just ahead. Road kill, I thought. Nope. A seagull. At 9:00 at night. Huh? Standing there. Well, until I hit it.

Strange, that.