Too misty, and too much in love...

I love living near the Willimantic River on days like this. The days have been clear and sharp at midday, but misty in the early morning. My street runs downhill to a bridge across the river. Friday, about 10 a.m., I looked out the window and could see mist drifting up the street.

Historical accounts published by the local newspaper at the city's 100th aniversary recounted the complaints of a "miasma" wafting up from the banks of the river, sickening many who lived too close to its waters. But of course in those days, the banks were lined with factories up and down the river going through town, and they freely dumped untreated sewage and chemicals into the river.

Today in the mist, you can catch the aroma of fabric softener and detergent, which I suspect comes from a local laundromat possibly dumping into the river. But mostly, it's clean and rather lovely.

The mist rising from a body of water is mysterious and calls out from some forgotten past. My daughter has a lovely photograph of mist on a pond in Maine that I downloaded to my desktop. It's really nice.