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Cat Feet Hell

imageOne is sometimes tempted to rely on Sandburg’s poem “Fog” when posting about…well, fog.

I fought the temptation, instead giving him a hat tip in the headline, which shall suffice.

You see, I swam to work on a sea of fog this morning.  Strange business, this being the beginning of August, when it is supposed to be hot and humid and unbearable.  To air-conditioned wusses, at least.

The simple beauty, however, gave me pause.  Pause enough to stop my car.  On the road.  In the fog.  With the blinkers on, nevertheless, but still…

And I snapped a photo of a cell tower floating in the mist, while the sun to its right peaks over the top of the earthbound cloud, threatening it’s impending obliteration.

I love mornings like this.

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