Glowing in the Gloamin

L.I. Sound's North Shore in the last of sunday's glowing tranquility.
The smallest dots on the water are possibly the luckiest this afternoon
 — ducks. No freezing rain, no wind, no waves for them to battle today.

Sands Point delivered a Wordsworthian Lake District moment this afternoon — somethin g right our of my favorite poem, "The Prelude."

But in a matter of seconds, a thick purple-gray fog cancelled out everything visible on the north side of the Sound, save the chimney of the old prison on Hart Island.  One other shorter navigational tower pierced a thickening haze that threatened to roll its darkening ghoulish mass southeast across the water, up the beach and into every crevice of remaining light on the North Shore of Long Island.

Manhattan was obscured in the fog, whether its residents knew it or not ;).

But here, for a moment, the sun tried to penetrate the clouds, tried to illuminate the serenity that, however briefly, had turned this considerable body of water into a pond fit for ducks, small fish, and all sorts of tame critters of land, sea and air.

As my friend Cory would say, "Niiiice."

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I wished I'd had my Nikon for this but at least the LG 670 phone got the first photo. By the time the fog rolled in in its spectral ghostliness, I was already picking up speed for the sprint up Vanderbilt. I have a 5th place "KOM" there I need to improve on ;)

Talking about KOMs (King of the Mountains) I nearly ran into Rich Simons on the way home. Rich was out for a fitness update too, taking a run down toward the point. And since I was wearing my full cycling "battle rattle" he was probably a little surprised to be greeted by such a strange looking begoggled bikerider. My choice of eyewear — too keep the winter winds out, it a wee bit on the Charles Lindbergh end of the spectrum.