Morning Fog

6:55 a.m.

My brain is full. Or so it seems.

The economy. The election. Gas prices. Hurricane Ike. Whatever. Add to that constant deadlines, the usual work stress, (fill in your life's pressures here).

The adrenaline is pumping all the time and we zoom from one thing to another... to another... to another...

And then a morning like this one happens.

The sun isn't quite up but the eastern sky is bright, glowing through fog that's crept up from the lake on Sandberg's 'little cat feet.'

The landscape is blurred and softened. The woods are quiet. It's 43 degrees outside - too cold for the bugs and frogs to sing, and the birds are still just waking up.

Take a breath.



Then another.




And another...