This really beautiful day happened today.
It started out all normal-winter, but unprairiely warm for the second day in december. The sky was empty, like it always is at this time in the year, except for the naked branches reaching everywhere, and the air was clear and crisp. On a stormless day, you can see everything and forever in the mid-morning in winter.
Halfway through my walk, the empty sky glazed over and the air got thick and there was fog in my eyes practically and if fog had a smell it would have filled up everything, but it doesn’t, and my sense of smell is what picks things up first for me, so the glaze and the thickness caught me incredibly off-guard. It enchanted me too. There is nothing so beautiful as a surprise foggy day.
I have nothing to report except for all the normal fog-inspired feelings and reactions:
+watching little orange Portman run into it happily and unquestioningly and feeling happy to know her
+remembering how beautiful it is to walk into the thick weirdness of low-visibility; to feel dizzied by it, but curious and smiley
+being taught so many millions of times and laughing about the forgetting about how, of course, the places that are least clear are also most magical
The other neat thing was that i had a class to go and teach in an industrial kind of area with big, clanking buildings and unused train tracks that wind into other buildings and little sprouts of trees growing sparsely. I had a spare ten minutes when i got there (which never happens), so instead of going right in, i crossed the street into the creepy, beautiful fog, and yielded.