Well, I forgot my camera this morning. I don't know if the pictures would have come out well or not--I went to Camelback Park and hiked around the packed dirt trails up and down its steep hills for forty-five minutes in 30 degree weather that was very different from yesterday's bright blue skies.
The fog was very heavy this morning and the section of Boise that normally spreads out before your eyes like the overhead views of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, full of neat little houses surrounded by trees, was swallowed up instead.
At first I imagined some great beast exhaling steam that crept in and hid the streets and buildings from view. Here be monsters.
Later in the walk I looked back toward the top of a hill I had just left behind a couple minutes earlier, and it was cloaked in mist. Then some sort of construction machine started up down below, its diesel engine chuffing invisibly. After a minute or so there was a clanking sound that I associate with the slow movement of tank treads from World War II movies. The magical fog of a few minutes before was transformed into the fog of war.
I still couldn't see anything, but I let myself flow with it and for a few tense breaths I waited for something sinister and mechanical to emerge from the fog below the bluff on which I stood, the tips of my boots at the edge. But it never came into view.
So another good walk, though I forget to take my allergy medicine this morning and didn't get back home to do so until the late afternoon, so I'm paying for my excursion a bit right now.