Fog

a wonderful dense fog this morning. you can barely see across the lake. are those ducks flying--or swimming?

everything is damp and hidden and mysterious. the heavy air makes everything more fragrant. (the house, for instance, is ripe with the smell of wet dog.)

for the past week, the city has been picking up the piles of downed trees and branches that neighborhood folk have been stacking at the curb after the last storm. they haven't gotten to our street yet, or the park, and the stacks are high. they smell pleasantly of rotting leaves and decaying wood.

the dogs love these piles. it's a dream come true, being able to pee on the treetops.

the damp this morning outlined spider webs all over the park--suddenly they were everywhere, beautiful, beaded in dew, outlined in fog, hanging from trees and stop signs, draped across the grass, festooning picnic chairs down by the paddleboat dock.


















how something usually as annoying and invisible as a spider web can be suddenly so beautiful is just one more mystery of the fog.