shrouded air

When temps went to the 20s (F) last night, they froze the clear moisture that had been seeping out from melting snow for the past two days, making a clear sheen on walks and streets in Indianapolis.

I've pulled a muscle in my back trying to negotiate such a patch at the same moment that Franklin the dog jerked on the leash at something he needed to smell immediately. I did not fall, but the sudden jerk, my tenseness at potentially falling, all led to straining the muscle.

Driving this morning, I was surprised at how slippery the roads were. But it was when I got to the northern suburb where I work that the weather changed the most. Fog from the melting snow and cold air had made vision almost impossible. I am unsure what gene is missing from drivers who do not turn on their car lights in such conditions, but this morning they were out on the road everywhere. The further north I went, the more dense the fog. Even after parking my car and getting out at work, I could not see the building until I was within a few yards of it.

There is more light outside now, but the ghostliness over the world is still present, shrouded between white ground and gray-black trees covered in hoarfrost, a cold foggy haze.