The fog blanketed the trees as I made my way along the trail, alone in the wood. Different than my past river trail run along the Deschutes, but just as satisfying, I jogged watching my breath puff out before me adding to the mystic of the morning. The temperature hung just above freezing and ice clung to the evergreen limbs lining the path.
Ice and fog, like a frigid shroud.
Eerie or peaceful, depending on your perspective.
Huh. The key to life discovered on a morning jog, and isn’t that just the way of the world?