What a pretty night it is.
I suppose it's just plain old fog. But it seems like something special and different to me tonight. It's a thick but gentle and friendly fog. City-fog is always pretty because it glows pinky-amber. From a distance this one is quiet, peaceful, even protective. Upon closer inspection, it's more like teeny tiny miniature rain that isn't all the way ready to fall. It's dancing and swirling around in slow motion, but you can only see that around the streetlights or in the glow of my flashlight. It only lands on things as tiny and delicate as it is...fine, short grass, the greenery of cedar and fir...where it sits gently, a magical dusting of glitter that might blow away at any second.
It won't even land on dog-fur, or my jacket. It just swirls around us.
Quite a few neighbors have their Christmas lights up already. I even see a few trees in windows.
This is the time of year I love taking our evening walks, it's our own little private holiday-lights-viewing-tour.
It seems like I was just marveling at how the stands of big-leaf maple around Seattle were unbelievably bright, absolutely fluorescent, street-sign yellow fading to reddy-copper at the top and bright lime-green at the bottom. Absolutely gorgeous. I guess I blinked, and suddenly now they are perfectly smooth domes of soft, greyish, lacy branches nestled among the evergreens...just like that...autumn becomes winter and if I blink again it will already be Christmas.
I'd better keep my eyes open.
I want to enjoy every second of this season. Every tiny speck of glitter. Or fog, as the case may be.