A cloud fell from the sky last night.  I’m not sure when it actually happened, since it was crystal clear when I went to sleep.  This morning, when I looked out of the window, I had to wonder, “Am I dreaming?”

Fog has a way of playing games with you.  That might be why I love it so much.  Ordinary objects become fuzzy.  Landscapes become otherworldly.  With imagination, I can be anywhere: my backyard or a Transylvanian woods.  Like snow, fog seems to muffle sound and makes you feel as if you’re the only person alive.  As I went exploring, I could hear the random drip of melting ice crystals, their misty evaporation rising into the air.  And as the sun warmed the atmosphere, the fog left and everything — including me — returned to it’s usual state of being. 

I hope these photos offer a glimpse of the gauzy wonder that was a Sunday morning fog in late November.