There's something sneaky about fog. It swirls on silent paws through the trees and around the eaves, making islands of every house. Having a touch of claustrophobia, it makes me edgy and fills me with a sense of being caged, boxed in, isolated from the world. Some of my scariest experiences have involved driving in the fog. Oddly enough one of the most beautiful sights is also caused by fog; the deep frost that covers every tree branch turning a woodland into a fairyland when the fog freezes. Fog has hovered over our valley for almost a week and at the lower elevations, it is as much smog as fog. I've stayed inside most of the time, not giving it a chance to stir up an asthma attack, but I miss our usual spectacular view of the valley. Only sometimes can I see the birds clustered around our feeders in our backyard. Not even the rain seems to lessen the swirling white. Perhaps the approaching snow storm will send it on its way.
There's one more week to enter a drawing for my new book, High Country. Details are two posts down from this one.
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