On the last day of summer I went hiking in the North Cascades. During the previous night, fog had rolled in from the Pacific Ocean, filling the entire Puget Sound Basin and creating the appearance of a typically drippy, damp winter day in the Northwest.
Despite the drizzle, I walked up the mountainside. At the 5,000 foot level, the fog thinned and bright sunshine washed across the higher slopes. From the summit, I could see distant volcanoes and alpine peaks drifting above the dense white fog.
This is the point in a post where I usually get metaphorical and make a big point about life. But what I only want to say is that the summer fog was lovely. The peaks glowed in the sun. And I felt blessed to walk through the day.