tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2303468624303726699.post1949955705960189228..comments2009-11-11T11:35:59.316-05:00Wildmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08010208282870731187noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2303468624303726699.post-85977302263599206042009-11-11T10:38:57.846-05:002009-11-11T10:38:57.846-05:00I LOVE the foggy mornings, too. My house is along the river, and it's quite a sight. It's kind of mystical.A. Lauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06145097863180655990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2303468624303726699.post-31596018471374854262009-10-10T13:18:33.476-04:002009-10-10T13:18:33.476-04:00Thanks for some great memories of a unique town. Your mention of morning fog reminded me of the great pleasure of coming home. For several years I worked in the bowels of the beast, going five floors down to retreive my car. A ten at night the area around Hopkins Plaza still baked like a brick and I hurried to get up to speed to stave off the feeling of suffocation. Ten minutes later, all windows down. I'd be plunging down 9 Mile Hill, descending into a dark paradise of cool, moist fragrant air and mist, hushed with tree whispers and river murmur. Mercy. I felt like stripping naked and thanking God everynight. I usually stopped in the Pheonix (fully clothed) for a beer instead, but I'll never forget this and so many other intense pleasures of coming home to Ellicott City. Thanks for the memory. This one's a keeper.billywhiskershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09663693534765288669noreply@blogger.com