It's nearly 10am as I venture out to the pool for my twice weekly ritual. One kilometre, up and down, up and down. Meditative, soothing, relaxing. Zen for the body and mind.
But today is a little different. I am confronted by this.
Mist. Fog. Pea soup ... whatever you like to call it.
Thicker, heavier and later than I've seen it.
It's 10am for goodness sake and I'm driving through haze.
The lake is eerie, cloaked in a vaporous cloud.
The sun is striving to break through to free up the day, but, at 10am, the fog is still the champion.
What madness to swim in this weather.
The shade sails at the Kindy by the pool smoke as the sun hits their dew ladened fabric. The fog has lifted here, but not at my home.
The pool is heated and covered, but few venture out on this morning. One lone swimmer breaks the calm of the water.
As I enter, he leaves murmuring, "Not many as mad as us."
My swim and coffee over, I head home to a brighter land.
Fog lifted.
Lake revealed.
The sun has championed again.
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