in a fog.

Dear fog,

I'd be lying if I said that on my days at home in the winter I didn't find beauty in you.  Don't get me wrong - I love the clear, blue, see for miles kinds of days from the windows that face the south, but I've also grown a fondness for the socked-in, can't see my hand in front of my face kinds of days too.

They give me an assurance that I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Home.

It's like being at my own little ocean.

An ocean of hills and trails.

An ocean where the fog rolls in and then rolls back out.

An ocean in the middle of Eastern Oregon.

It's also like looking out the window of a plane.

Where you can see the peaks poking out above the clouds, and then, when you drop down just low enough, you can see the places that look most familiar filled with that which you love most.

I've taken a lot of pictures this month of your beauty.

And the most amazing part of your presence in my life is that you remind me of myself.

Settled in a place where you know you're meant to be ~ protecting and blanketing life with your quiet presence.

So the next time someone says - I feel like I'm in a fog, I'm going to smile.

Smile, and grin ... and maybe even chuckle because sometimes being in a fog can give you the clarity and clearness you've been looking for all along.

At least that's what you've done for me during the past few weeks.

So, keep rolling with it ~ and I will too.

Lindsay