Having grown up in the regular morning fog in New Orleans, that would roll off the Mississippi River like a wet smokey blanket - I love now living in the Smokey Mountains for the fact that the foggy clouds can roll past my face, blotting out all the colors, making morning a monochromatic wonder just like always. Peaceful. Easy on the eyes. There is one huge difference between the fog of the crisp Blue Ridge and the fog of the dirty Mississippi, and that is in the mountains it does not roll in smelling like rotten peanuts, grain on barges, pollution, mosquito sprays and landfill. Each swampy morning I went out to the car dressed in my catholic school uniform I had to put my St.Rita sweater over my face to blot out the terrible smell. But, oh how some days I wish New Orleans could be clean, 3,000 feet high in the air clean - maybe I would want to go back for a visit.
In the pic above that is the old corn Silo, with bamboo leaning in the left corner. Below is the fog just beginning to clear off the trees... it's nice how it turns everything gray and blue and silver.