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Friday, March 17, 2017

IT EMERGED FROM THE FOG LIKE A GHOST FROM THE PAST





Saturday, 8:45 AM.  29 degrees F at the ferry dock, 28 on the back porch.  Wind NW, moderate with stronger gusts.  The sky is mostly overcast and cloudy, with a patch of blue here and there.  The humidity is 82% after a dusting of snow over ice that made walking hazardous.  The barometer is rising, now at 30.25", predicting much warmer weather Sunday and Monday, which will then revert to colder and more wintry weather.  Old Man Winter has us in his death grip, and won't let go.
   The heavy fog held on all yesterday, giving me the opportunity to do this photographic study of Bayfiel's Nineteenth Century iron bridge, which in the old days connected the protestant and Catholic 
sides of town.
   Yesterday it emerged from the fog like a ghost from the past.

Fog

Related Poem Content Details

The fog comes 
on little cat feet. 

It sits looking 
over harbor and city 
on silent haunches 
and then moves on.

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