Fog Elf

The intense, unusual and definitely unseasonal fog we've been experiencing the last two days reminds me of summer mornings in Pacific Grove, where I spent the earlier of my formative years.

There, at the tip of the Monterey Peninsula, the fog would roll in at dawn then creep thickly through the seaside forests to infiltrate the town, muffling everything in cool white cotton. I remember walking to summer school through the damp, sweet, heavy mist and feeling like I had a secret, like the fog wrapping itself around me held some mystery that only I could see. Sounds were muffled, and even the squirrels and jays scuffling through the fallen pine-needles and flitting through the trees by the road seemed far away.

At the summer school I'd buy an extra big peanut butter cookie, sit on a bench and watch the ghostly figures of other children as I munched away. To this day, the taste of peanut butter cookies reminds me of those foggy mornings of my childhood. And fog itself still makes me feel safe, mysterious and warm.