fog.

as a fierce lover of the greyest of grey days, storms and lots of chilly rain, it's no surprise that i also love fog. last night we got an incredible storm and I woke up extra early to quite a bit of fog lingering in the trees around my room. i was immediately reminded of a quote from Dickens' "Bleak House" where he describes fog. read it, and enjoy the vivid imagery :)



Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats.


(more from Bleak House here)