The fog here does not come in on "little cat feet"; it just settles down on us like an overfed lion and takes a nap for the winter.
At least it is seems that way some years... There are days the fog drifts in off the hills and covers the valley floor with an impenetrable blanket that makes seeing even one hundred feet nearly impossible.
Other times, the fog rises from the rain-dampened ground and blocks the sun for weeks at a time, and we seem to venture outside only to encounter never ending shades of grey...
On still other days, the fog is so thick and dense it is like walking in a light rain, the sound of the water falling from the tree branches the only clear sound to your ears.
High pitched sounds are deadened, attenuated by the fog; deep rumbles from the distance come through much more clearly.
This morning, there is no wind to move the fog about; the birds aren't even inclined to fly...
But if we look closely...
...and maybe use just a touch of flash.
We can find a wonder...
...or two
...or more
'midst the signs of the oncoming Spring.
The walks