The other day, the fog rolled in. For two or three days all you could see through the window was fog. There was one morning when, for a while, the sun came out and blue sky appeared but it soon went. The gloom returned. I said two or three days but I can’t be sure: perhaps it went on longer. I lost track of time. However long it was, I had no need to go out so I stayed in. I tried venturing out once or twice but the combination of fog and early sunsets proved just too oppressive. On one occasion, I tried setting out late at night with a head torch but soon gave up. The fog was thick and the beam hardly penetrated the darkness. It was difficult to see where I was going but what it did illuminate was the teeming flow of water-particles moving on the air-currents. It reminded me of the Dust that features in Philip Pullman’s novels. Just for a moment it was as if I’d stepped into another universe.
After however many days it was, the fog finally lifted to reveal a changed world. Officially, winter doesn’t start for a few weeks but here it feels as if it has arrived already. The trees are completely bare. The brown, dead leaves are everywhere. Everything is covered with a thin film of water which will probably remain (either as water or ice) until Spring. There is a greyness to everything.
© Sackerson, 2020