I live in the beautiful Inland Northwest. Our city motto is “Near Nature, Near Perfect”
I really honestly believe this motto. It is gorgeous here 9 months out of the year. Okay maybe 6 months out of the year.
The summers are generally in the low 90’s and every day that is 70 is perfect for me. There is green upon green upon green with beautiful bright flowers in between.
Old buildings and new ones all mixed on one block. Eclectic is another way I would describe this city. This “vibe” (I sound young and hip when I say ‘vibe’) is very unique.
As winter approaches I still see the beauty. The peacefulness of the season. Yet when I drive out there on the icy roads I tend to lose sight of that, quickly.
But these last few days there has been fog. I love the fog. I really do.
It levels the playing field.
It covers the road so that the mundane street now becomes an adventure.
It is inviting, intriguing, mysterious, frightening.
It makes me feel like I can get away with anything. That nothing happens, yet EVERYTHING is happening.
I feel like I could walk into the fog and disappear forever. I like to think that if I step into the thickest part a whole new world opens up to me. A world of wonder.
It makes broken things look whole and complete.
Fog makes trees seem stronger and taller.
It makes the air quiet.
I like the fog.
If I could bottle it I would. Then open the bottle every time I needed to feel embraced.