Fog.

Yesterday was oddly foggy in Sarasota, and specifically Siesta Key. As we drove over the bridge toward the island, I kept exclaiming at the fact that the fog wasn't burning off (in fact, it was thickening), and when we got to our destination—my best friend Kate's mom's house—we ended up spending a couple of hours sitting on her dock, admiring the still water and the foggy air. It felt surreal, almost other-wordly, and was such a contrast to Sarasota's normal bright blue skies and abundant sunshine. I loved it.

And of course, I couldn't help be reminded of Carl Sandburg's poem, "Fog"—so simple, but one of my favorites:

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Above are a few snapshots I took throughout the afternoon; looking at them makes me feel so calm, and I wanted to share them here in case you're searching for a similar feeling on this Monday morning, too.

Photos: My own.