Day 19: A Foggy Little Christmas...

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbour and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
   - Carl Sandburg


Today, the fog did not come in on little, quiet, pleasant cat feet.  It came in stealthily, heavily, like tiger paws.  I glanced out my window while working to see grey skies and the usual snow and ice...and a few minutes later glanced up again to see the whole area around me surrounded in heavy fog.  I was talking to a friend on Facebook who works in the same town, and she said there was no fog at all just a few minutes' walk away.  I assured her it was coming to engulf the church she works in, and sure enough a few minutes later she said, "The fog is here!"

I like fog.  It makes me feel Christmassy, too.  Like snow, it muffles the normally harsh sounds going on all around us.  It's quiet, and not a little bit spooky at times.  I went out for my walk to the post office, fully anticipating another hour's wait so I could send off my two parcels.  I was amazed to find only four people in the queue, and I was out of there in ten minutes.  The woman at the post office said, "You do realise these are far too late to arrive by Christmas", and I was so tempted to drop my jaw and say, "What?? What in the world are you guys doing with your time, anyway??"  But after all the disruption we've had, and the reminder that at least a few times they walked several hours in the snow just to get to the post office, I thought perhaps I'd just nod and smile and say that was fine.  (It would be incredible if I sent a parcel to America on the 21st and it arrived by Christmas Day...who knows??)

The ice under the snow made an ominous creaking sound at times - like the whole foundations of the earth were going to be shaken if I kept walking on it.  On the road, my boots made a 'thomp, thomp' sound - like a muffled, dense stomping noise.  Christmas lights blink cheerfully at me; there is still goodwill in the air; and I rejoice in being able to get out and breathe the sharp cold air, even if it hurts my nose as well as my throat.

There was someone walking across the road from me with the brightest, most neon orange hat I've ever seen.  It was funny, with all the dimmed and faded colours around (grey sky, misty fog, white trees, brown sludgy ice), to suddenly see an incredibly cheerful hat bobbing along...you couldn't miss it for miles.  I wanted to take a photo, just to show how it stood out against the trees, but he sped on very quickly and I missed it.  A few minutes later I was standing in front of an icy tree, getting ready to take its photo, and Mr Orange-Hat sailed on past me!  I nearly missed him again (you can see the speed at which he is going), but I smiled again at the spot of cheer in a dim (weather-wise) day.

Walk length:  30 minutes