Fog in my gloves

Early morning.

The sky and snow are blue with cold

Until the sun rises

Tinging the soft underbellies of the popcorn clouds

With pink sugar.

The kids pile into overalls and boots

And gloves and hats and scarves

And kids and dog and I spill out

Into the gorgeous new day

To greet the thick fog rising like a veil

Above the welcoming iced over lake.

It’s cold. Very cold.

“I’ve got fog in my gloves!” my youngest shouts.

“Let’s go home.”

And enjoy the sensation and memory of that fog.

Fog in our gloves.

(You can click the photos to make them bigger.)

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