Fog

Early morning.  Late evening.  Fog is a miracle of the most common substance on the surface of the planet.  It's also rather beautiful.  The cold, wet, cloud around me almost makes me lose myself. Its talent at obscuring the ordinary sights of life never fails to amaze me.  And in that haze can come a new sort of view, one based more on the moment and my immediate surroundings than a far-off destination and the path to it.  I guess that sometimes you have to have something taken away to see what is right before your eyes. 
Upon emerging from the haze, I can see everything more crisply, clear now simply in contrast to the homogeneous monochromaticism I had previously surrounded myself in.  It's like opening a new set of eyes.
I can't really explain the feeling of seeing fog from inside a dehumidified, air-conditioned (or heated, as the case may be) home.  Looking out the window and seeing...nothing.  Just a gray blur in place of the familiar paths and trees.  A sinking feeling and childish excitement fight for dominance within me.  On the one hand, I love to be able to see my surroundings.  Lose that, and I am lost in a world of foreign senses and feelings.  And on the other hand, the little child within me loves the sense of adventure and mystery that fog promises.  But I miss the days when I could be entirely enveloped by the cloud of condensation.  Now that I've grown, I can almost invariably see over the fog from my high-up vantage point.  Still, that doesn't prevent me from occasionally getting on my hands and knees in the damp grass and crawling around, losing all sense of direction and location to the all-consuming mass around me. 
Weather can be an amazing thing. 

And I realized I haven't said what I am thankful for for a while now.  Hmm...friends, family, technology, and weather.  That should get me caught up.