Fog is a relative rarity in Columbus. When it appears on an otherwise clear morning — as it did this morning — it is a treat.
Everyone who, as a child, watched clouds scudding across the summer sky and wondered what it would be like to be in a cloud will inevitably be attracted to a low-lying bank of fog. Who wouldn’t welcome the chance to disappear into the mist, like a trenchcoat-clad character in ’40s movie who just spoke a killer line? On a day that promises to be a hot one, it is a joy to be enveloped in the mist, feeling its dampness on your skin and smelling its pleasant, slightly acrid odor.
Of course, clouds can touch the surface only briefly, until the sun rises over the treetops and shoos them away.
I’ve been to San Francisco quite a bit lately, and one of the things I’ve enjoyed about my visits is the fog. Typically, it seems to be very foggy in the morning, and then as the day progresses the fog burns off and rolls back. By afternoon, it is clear over the city, but as you look out past the Golden Gate Bridge you see the fog banks lurking out there, waiting patiently like a living thing, ready to roll back in and blanket the city once more.
We don’t have anything like this in flat, landlocked Columbus. On the few occasions we do have fog, it usually is a few pathetic wisps that cling to the low-lying areas — nothing like the thick, plush fog banks that you see in San Francisco.
Although I imagine driving in the fog is a pain for San Francisco residents and commuters, I think the fog makes the City by the Bay a more interesting, dreamy, mysterious place.