I’ve already expressed my admiration for the soft days of a slow rain. Now, I’d like to add cool mornings of light fog to the list. There is such a thing this morning. Gray clouds holds back the early morning light, while a thin fog drifts among the trees, wandering ever so slowly over the pasture and through the woods. It dulls sharp edges and mutes both color and sound.
Even as the sun rises, in these, the days of early winter, it will be slow to chase away the fog because the light of a winter sun comes low across the land. It’s never strong enough to burn anything. It only hints at heat, making gentle suggestions that perhaps the fog should move on. It will leave the fog to do as it will and eventually the fog will give way, of its own volition. And the sun will venture into the sky too distracted to rise to great heights and warm anything, because it is too busy being the summer sun somewhere else.
