Natures arm wrestle

I ventured out this morning, into the now familiar fog. It sure was beautiful - a gauzy veil sillouetting the landscape into a world of vague, but still discernible shapes. Conifers spired toward the heavens - upper limbs shrouded to invisibility. Four little birds bolted out of a nearby cedar, sounding an avionic bugle call to rejoice in the commencement of yet another day... they disappeared into a plume of vapor. Even the sounds of the morning are different in the fog. The distant murmur of traffic is muffled - but nearby bird calls are enhanced. It is as if Nature was whispering to me, "hey, listen to this.....".
Tomorrow is supposed to be raining. The temperature is set to plummet to a frosty 11 degrees Celsius. I will miss the fog tomorrow.
This season- the Fall- is named so, to depict the annual shedding of deciduous leaves. But in witnessing the fog, it is also a reminder that the dreary gloom of winter hovers close. The fog's inevitable evaporation is offered as a sign that outgoing summer is willing to stay and fight with winter, just a little longer...one more day, at least. But just as the snow geese know that it is time to commence their annual migration down from Russia, summer will also fall to the cold grasp of winter. It is evitable. It is natures design.