Winter makes you look harder for loveliness. But it’s there.
Yesterday morning the fog was so thick we couldn’t see even the middle of the lake, let alone the other side. But we lingered too long over breakfast and the paper, and by the time we got to French Park with our cameras–the fog rolled south within just a few minutes. It was like magic…pouf! We didn’t care–it was so wonderful to be out in the fresh air (42 degrees), walking around without bearclaws on our boots and the posture of a 90-year-old trying to avoid a fall. What total pleasure. The landscapes were quietly, shyly beautiful . . . and we were completely alone.