Once a year we got fog in the Keys. Inevitably I would be working and the only fog pictures I could post would be commuting shots of lamps looking film noir shrouded in mist.
Monday morning Rusty started yawning at 6:15 and by the time he and I were out of GANNET2 the dawn still hadn’t broken properly.
I wore my serape and socks under my Crocs. I put on the splendid gloves I bought at Wally World in Benson on Bruce’s sage advice and with my watch cap on I was equipped. Rusty wire his collar. We went for a walk. Our chairs and sand mats were wet.
Packing them up to go into town was going to be a chore.
A Mexican family with a Nissan Altima was here the day before. We saw the car leave but they left their weekend camp behind.
The desert mountains in the distance are invisible.
Even the locals looked grumpy:
Home sweet home and a cup of tea.
Some pictures:
To keep things in perspective Bruce sent me a picture of snow on his porch in Southern Arizona. As he put it we escaped the Great Blizzard.
Up north the snow melted and down here the fog lifted.
