I woke up and saw the solid white out my window and thought of snow. But it turned out to be fog. I love walking in the fog, in the city in the country in my hood. The air is moist and feels like a thick enveloping coat. A cloud blanket.
I have been hearing rumblings of energy from my friends who have finished their Fall semester of school. Some are teachers and some students. But all of them, are boiling over and doing all the things the weight of the end of semester prevented. The fog of school has lifted and a window of freedom has opened up.
There is also the fog of the season. The food and drink and must see events that cloud our path. I watched the movie White Christmas for the third time this week. I wait all year just to see those colors and hear Rosemary Clooney sing! I get lost in the browns and slate blues, cerulean feathers and red velvet gloves. When it finally snows in the end, I cry every time!
It is comforting and mysterious. It is a cloud too near the ground. Yet it will pass. For now, for today, I welcome this fog. Maybe only because I know, it will lift and be gone. The starkness that follows is both exciting and unknown. I welcome that too!
