Foggy Bottom

So the fog is actually floating by in waves this morning--you'd think I was still in NorCal. But moist is moist, and as a gardener, I'll take it.

Seems the fog is not limited to my environs as I decided to start the morning by downloading malware onto my computer. Nice. It's gone now--no harm, no foul--but it just makes you question the brilliance of logging on before sunrise. Then again, the sun has yet to rise, visibly. I blame the allergy/sinus meds. But I also thank them, what with the ability to breathe and all.

I swear it looks like car exhaust going by the windows; like I have a roaring fire ablaze. Though this fog is wispy thin, it reminds me of the super thick fog, perhaps the thickest I've even seen, outside Julian, California. I watched it approach, pushed across a field and toward us by the morning sunrise. Really neat effect. And I remember the sweet cherry pipe tobacco smell of the trees in the fog and mist of the Olympic Peninsula. The air seemed to go almost crimson, not from any available light, but from that marvelous smell. It was as pronounced and all-encompassing as the first whiff of salt-sea air near the shore--an iconic scent if ever there was one.

Then there was the unfortunate movie, "The Fog". Almost ruins you for lighthouses.

I'll just think about "Haven", which is due to return to us in July. I just love the atmosphere they manage to create on that show. How often do you want to visit a damned place with dangerous characters lurking about? Somehow they make that seem a reasonable course of action. It's almost like there's a quiet reading of Poe going on beneath the surface, a slow-moving and somber strain of Chopin calling you onto the rocks. There's something new yet familiar, not so much a mystery to solve as a nightmare to see through to its end. Something you feel you know, or want to know. A permeating, churning, veil of a thing just outside your awareness.

Like a fog.