Today was one of those special mornings when it was really foggy – one of the better things about autumn. There isn’t really a good place to take a photo of fog on my normal way to work, but I did my best when I reached there.
The odd thing about this photo is that it doesn’t look nearly as foggy as I remember it – but that would be due to the “fog-squared” effect.
I’m pretty sure that some people will know exactly what I am talking about, but others will not. So for them, let me explain. I wear glasses, and in fog my glasses will collect a layer of fog as I move through the fog cloud. And yet there is more. If it is cold enough, the efforts of my exertion on my way to work will lead to condensation on the inside of the glasses too.
Thus, the fog will often appear to me to be really dense, but when I peer around the edge of my glasses – although the world becomes a lot more blurry – it’s still obvious that it’s a lot less foggy.
This isn’t so bad, because I like fog, but it could be inconvenient.
On the advantage of height
One of the circumstances in which fog really comes into its own is when there is a contrast in height so that one can look down on the fog from above, or move through the fog layer to emerge into the sunshine above. R has experience in this regard, because she lives on the edge of Snowdonia, and so this evening she was able to tell me about the times that she had been able to look down on fog from her lofty home, or to move out of the bottom of a fog/low cloud layer on her way to school.
Talking with R reminded me of my early communications with D, which were during an autumn seven years ago in which there was a pleasant quantity of fog to discuss. Fond memories are good.
I’ve never lived anywhere particularly hilly, but it occurred to me during that conversation that height has many great advantages when it comes to observing the weather, and that I might be properly situated were I to gain a bit more height than my current ten or so metres above sea level.