It felt like home. In the valleys of Oregon it's common to have fog for days on end; thick fog, a thin barley there fog, fog that burns off by afternoon, fog that refuses to burn off and stays for a week or more. Fog in every imaginable form.
I love the mysteriousness of fog. Seeing car headlights approaching long before the car becomes visible. Friday night football games where, like clockwork, the fog rolls in at the end of the third quarter creating a dreamlike scene. Trusting that the ocean waves I'm hearing are really hitting the beach despite the fact that I can't see them through the thickness of the mist. The low moaning of a fog horn singing me to sleep on a camping trip. Secretly wondering if the house across the road will still be there when the fog burns off and it is once again visible.
We need more fog here.