Misty Moisty Morning

Snow on the ground.
Rain comes down.
Fog rises.
Misty, moisty morning with steam in the air.

Squirrelboy and Faerygirl squelched through the slush on this mysterious, creepy morning. Faerygirl remembered a Stephen King story she'd read about an evil fog. I forbade her to speak of it, since it was truly dark and foggy, and I could imagine my own shadowy horrors lurking in the mist. At one point, I saw electric blue sparks somewhere in the woods (could it have been static electricity from the hair falling over my eyes?). Instead, I recalled a charming story I'd read as a girl about a village that only appeared in the fog. Faerygirl thought that was a nice idea. Squirrelboy enjoyed kicking the slush, and Faerygirl remembered how she used to enjoy doing the same. Too soon, the bus loomed up out of the fog, blinking and twinkling its safety lights, to take my daughter away. Squirrelboy's mitten found my hand and we went to fill the woodburner for the day's heat.