Looking across the bay at the museum I was unhappy with what I saw through the lens and thought I didn’t understand it properly. Yet a boat quite close and a building behind me seemed fine.
Colleagues out exercising along the Corniche paused to talk and we spoke, as many of us have, about the warm winter. Not once this year have I even wanted a scarf around my neck against the morning chill. Lately during the day it has been in the low to mid-seventies (Fahrenheit). We also lamented how incredibly quickly and early evening falls – dark by 6:00 p.m.
I soon left for home where I downloaded the few photos I took, noticing with pleasure the museum details, focussing on the side of the museum opposite its entrance, although wondering again about the gentle haze surrounding it. This morning when I looked out the windows, as President Obama was finishing his first press conference, I saw that I could see out the top half of the floor to ceiling windows but the bottom was obscured. An hour later as I prepared to leave, there was no visibility. On the 16th floor I appeared to be in the middle of a cloud. Driving to work was tortuous, with visibility reduced to 100’ or so. Car lights were on not to see through the dense fog but to be seen. The particular local custom of putting the flashing lights on in fog was evident although I see no improvement over simply lights on. Most drivers were cautious although a few continued to drive at speeds above the posted limits. I arrive safely although I expect there will be a number of accidents during the rush.
I now understand the haze that enveloped the museum across the bay last evening was a foretaste of this morning's dense fog.
A day after the dense fog we had a serious sandstorm and the pictures in the embedded slideshow were taken 5:00 - 5:20 pm, a good 6-7 hours after the worst. Driving home, a brief 20 minute commute, I was aware of the grit in my teeth despite the completely closed windows. The sand is fine and seems to enter miniscule openings in the car and even our pores.
