Monday, 8:00 AM. 43 degrees, wind SW, dead calm. There is a thick fog, and the barometer predicts rain.
The blanket of fog is heavy, the visibility only a few hundred feet. I can hear traffic on Hwy. 13 but cannot see it. The fog horn on the City Dock is bellowing intermittently, and the ferry sounds its horn entering and leaving both ports.
The sun is a silver disc, trying, unsuccessfully at present, to shine through the murky atmosphere.
The Lutheran church bell just tolled, must be a funeral. If so, it is a fitting morning. It seems early for a funeral service, but the Lutherans are mostly early rising Scandinavians, evidently loath to break lifelong habits, even in death.
The old pear tree in Fountain Garden Park has provided me with a whole bushel of rock-hard pears, which I assume the deer will love once we get a really hard frost to soften then up. No luck with the computer as yet, maybe I should put it out on the deck and wait for a hard frost.
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