One of my favorite things is fog. It conjures up visions of 1930s Sherlock Holmes' movies on a fuzzy 1960s black & white TV. Earlier mornings with that certain "bite" in the air brings a shiver of wonder down my back that is almost indescribable.
It's not tangible, yet its palatable. Right now I hear my dogs howling, faced toward the smokiness that seems to have crossed the road and is heading up our field toward the house. It wasn't there 30 minutes ago when I snapped these photos. It's on the move, much like the handiwork of God--always in motion, always alive. And, what has created that movement? The sun, of course.
The mystery and intrique of a foggy morning is a delight for it speaks of a God moving down to earth to perform His wonders.
"Bow Thy heavens, O Lord, and come down; touch the mountains, that they may smoke." (Ps. 144:5 NASB)
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