Nothing is more beautiful than a foggy morning on the lake. The mist hugs the quiet, still waters, as it softens and blurs the structures on the far side.
The fog is light this day, more haze than fog, but enough to change the lake’s complexion, so that the familiar, comfortable presentation is ever so slightly askew.
Change feeds the soul, and fires up the imagination. I remember the monotony of last year’s drought. Day after day of unrelenting sun-filled skies. There was no joy in it, and there seemed no end to it. I came to greet each day with dread.
I wouldn’t choose to live in a paradise that offered blue skies and sunny days – give me variety. Give me change, even if it is adversity.