Morning Fog

I look out the window every morning when I wake. In theory, a quick glance should tell me about the day to come, how to dress, and what to expect. In reality, however, my early morning data from the window is generally misinformation.

Because we live yards from the Winooski River in a corridor of farm fields and flood plains, a morning mist hangs over us regardless of season. Walking the dogs in the morning is always a grey (but not gloomy) activity -- grey in the sense that low clouds block whatever "real" weather exists beyond.

I've learned to predict by feel. Although every morning looks grey and cloudy, I can feel whether it's going to be a rainy day or whether the sun will burn off the fog in an hour or two. On a sunny summer day, you can often see a bluish tint to the mist above. On days when you leave the house, you'll drive through the clouds, turn away from the river, and -- suddenly -- a blinding sun greets you. Looking back, you can see a ribbon of low clouds smothering the river valley that winds among the hills.

I like our misty mornings. I don't need to see the sun to know it's coming. And when it does finally make its appearance and the clouds begins to burn away, I appreciate it all the more.