It is late November and still we are without our first flake of snow. We've been as cold as 18 degrees, though. Last night melted into morning with an almost-full moon and when Mom awoke, about 5 a.m., it was shining brightly. A couple of hours later, she said she stepped into the kitchen and was met by a thick fog staring back.
This view of Pinehaven, facing northeast, was taken just before sunrise and shows how we were enveloped in white. Many trees seemed to disappear into the clouds. It was cold - in the upper 20's - but the fog did not stick to many objects as might have been expected. I think the fog formed too quickly for that.
Behind our property, my row of pines faded into the distance. The first deciduous tree you see (left) is a volunteer wild cherry and beyond it the field has gone to white. The corn stalks crunched beneath my feet.
From behind the garage, Pinehaven lies hidden in the earth-bound cloud. It was a ghostly morning, ripe for spirits, but I shared my walk with no one. All was quiet. There was no traffic about and no dogs barked. It was as though I was alone in the world. If there was any sound, it was lost in the blanketing fog.
At the front of our property, along S. Clayton Road, the pines stood silhouetted against the rising light. Still no sun at 8 a.m. and none at 1 p.m either. Though the fog has disappeared, the sky has remained cloudy, the atmosphere heavy and cold.
These are the times, just before winter arrives, when I feel gratitude for a walk without wind and cold. The days are short now and I can feel the change coming. On mornings like these, when the fog mimics a gentle snow, my very bones begin to sense it, too.