A half-hour before daylight, when I checked the day's weather forecast on my iPod, I saw early fog on the agenda. Great, I said to myself, maybe I can get some neat foggy photos from along the river.
I made coffee and readied my gear. Then, as the morning sun began to creep over the eastern horizon, I looked out at the pool and riffle in front of the cottage. Naturally, I expected an indistinct view, thanks to that prognosticated blanket of luminous fog.
What? Where's that silky, mysterious fog I was promised? There wasn't even a hint of thin mist hanging above the water! I'd been hoodwinked, misled, deceived and deluded once again by those dastardly weather diviners.
And so, not willing to let a morning photo outing escape so easily, I went looking up the hill and thence up the road. And the best image I found was the one above, of the just-risen sun shining through what could be fog, or might be nothing more than the usual exhalation mist of woods and dewy grass along the edge of a small copse. A pretty image, regardless.