The first weekend of the new year and we woke up to a beautiful, heavy fog.Foggy mornings seem to give you more of a chance to slow down without feeling a sense of time going by. At least they do for me. My family spends a lot of time meandering the trails near our house. On this morning, my son was looking for mushrooms and I was busy looking at the remnant grass and seed heads of summer and fall in the meadows. The decaying blackberry canes and the last of the rose hips rotting and withering. I closed my eyes and thought of other seasons here, the flush of wild roses in the spring flouncing and adorning the sides of the path. The meadows lit up with explosions of colorful confetti when the mustard, wild radish and lupines are in bloom. The sweetness of the blackberries ripening in the summer heat. Listening to the birds, always busy, chattering away making nests or screeching as they swoop to snatch a mouse.