The loud morning songs of our local birds greeted me when I stepped outside this morning.
My car was wet and a misty fog hung heavy in the air.
Fog seems to carry sounds and smells a long way.
I remember when I was a teen riding on the hood of my dads car with a flashlight shinning on the yellow line,
we were going over the hills in La Habra on our way to Huntington Beach.
The fog was so thick you had to open the car door to see the yellow line.
How many of us have driven off the road going 4 mph onto the shoulder of the road
not knowing or having a clue to where the road is?
The fog gets thick here in Kentucky but my memory says that the heaviest was in California.
The fog hangs in layers, the misty forms of trees stand out on these rolling hills. I look up above the trees to the sky. It has morning colors remarkably light blue and pink.

July 01, 2001 bongaJuly 01, 2001
July 01, 2001 bongaJuly 05, 2001
July 08, 2001bongaJuly 14, 2001
July 15, 2001 bongaJuly 15, 2001
July 15, 2001 - A Letter to Baby Purcell  by Laurel Diaz

 .Words & Graphics by Tomas