Its a rare morning in Austin, TX when one can catch a thick fog.
Perhaps it is not all that rare, what would I know, I’ve only been here a couple month. I will say this, its more rare than the place I call home, Olympia, WA where the fog seems to blanket the ground every morning.
The fog is a nice change from the blistering sun; fog adds this haze of perfection like retouching the world. Its so thick I can smell it and feel it as I lie here in my snow-capped bed. Everything seems more fresh out of the fog; a little sad but clean. My eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the day, my mind hasn’t quite prepared itself for exhaustion but the fog makes it all a little easier.
I’ve been in thicker; the kind that is so heavy you can barely see the person standing before you, the kind where lights only make it worse as they get captured in the cloudy mist and illuminate the haze. I think its beautiful. There’s nothing you can do to clear it, no remedy; one must only wait until it passes. There in lies its beauty. Fog makes us wait.
Perhaps that is what I am reveling in this morning? Before I head out the door to work and madness, I have time to wait, I must. I breath and still as the fog permits.
My life has been so hectic, I’ve barely time to sit and write, barely time to anything. With my boss off to Ireland and my charge in her absence, there is much on my plate that I’m not entirely thrilled about. C’est la vie (I use this phrase far too often, as it excuses everything for me).
I know things will slow down but perhaps I need to create some fog of my own, to force myself. I have nothing further to mentioned, I am simply enjoying the moisture on the window and the blanket underfoot.