Blipping Again

Fog has a way of messing with one's day.

You wake up and think it's still night. It looks like a Stephen King or Dean Koontz novel as you gaze out your back window.

Drawn outside, you cross the yard with your fuzzy socks on, melting the frost into them as broken leaves stick to the yarn.

Why are you looking into the neighbor's yards, searching for a photo opportunity?

You do it for a Blip, and it feels right.

I am happy to be back!