Foggy days

It seems to me there's been more fog this October. It's a rite of passage for autumn in the Northwest to be sure, something I look forward to each year. Fog softens the world, and masks human influences on it. It helps to hide the unlovely and makes everything mysterious. It beckons me to come out to play, to walk in the woods on my favorite trail, to take out my camera and hope to capture something of its beauty.


Friends who have a beach house unequivocally dislike the fog; because they lose their view. But I love foggy days at the beach, when sounds are muffled and the fog drifts across the familiar scenes, constantly changing the view. The foghorns moan in the distance, and ships come through the passage with no other warning but the sounds of water breaking across their bows.
Fog is quiet and serene and a bit spooky, and it brings out my nesting instincts. Time to bake bread, build a fire in the woodstove, sew, and read.
I'm happy to be snug in my little farmhouse.

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