I went outside Friday morning to watch the magical progression of this dense fog. I lingered, I loitered, I stood in the wet grass, I watched the geese, I tried to be still. At one point the only sound I heard was the dripping of the fog onto the bigleaf maple leaves. The fog--ground-level stratus clouds--lifted over a period of three hours. I watched them rise into the blue sky and transform themselves into cumulus clouds.
I passed a man on the bike trail, dressed head-to-toe in camouflage. He was walking his small collie. He said, "Isn't this beautiful? You could say that you are walking in a cloud." I agreed and said I would.
The fields were full of restless geese, rising in a panic, honking their way across the gray sky.
Wouldn't this be something to surf?
And here, the fog rising and dissipating in the sun-warmed air. What a morning!
