Fog is quite the mysterious kind of weather. And this morning, it baffled me once again. I had decided to run into Vermont which meant crossing the Connecticut River via a main bridge just 1/2 mi down from Main Street. (Down is used literally here. Quite a steep hill extends from the Main Street intersection to the river. And it really sucks running up it to come home.)
I wake up, see it's a little foggy out, get pretty pumped, jump into my running clothes and I'm out the door. Nice warm up to the bridge. I stop into a small side street before crossing the bridge to stretch. ouuuch that 8 mi hike on Saturday has my calves very sore. Ok... ready for the upcoming 4-5 miles. With a little step-hop I'm into a jog and settling into a pace. Little step onto the sidewalk and I'm crossing the bridge. Ahh, What a beautiful morning, pitter patter, not too hot yet, pitter patter, look to my left, oh wow the fog is really dense this morning, I can barely see 1/4 mi down the river, pitter patter, cute house up in the trees though, pitter patter, look to my right, pitter patter, hey that looks like the crew team out there, pitter patter, what a crystal clear morning, pitter patter, calm water and great rowing conditions, pitter patter, haha I can kind of hear their commands even though they're so far away.

Pause. pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter.

Look back to my left- dense fog that obstructs everything past the nearest trees. Look again to my right- clear view to the rowers and beyond. It takes me one more double take before I truly realize that the clouds had descended to my left but none, during those moments, happened to be to my right.

It was really very strange to witness. I can only imagine that seeing it rain down the street but no raindrops falling on your head would be a similar phenomenon.