Fog
I am sitting in a bowl of milk this morning.
Work was very quiet yesterday due to the strong winds and poor flying conditions, so I anticipated that traffic would be more brisk this morning.
Ha!
The skies cleared late last night, turning the moist air into fog. Since I arrived at work this morning--shortly before six--the visibility at the airport dropped from two miles to less than a quarter-mile. Before day-break it made it very dark outside--I couldn't see the lights of the terminal across the field--or even the runway lights. Now that day has broken (presumably) the view outside is milky white with ghostly impressions of trees and buildings in the vicinity.
Since the minimum visibility required for aircraft to make an approach to the Homer airport is a mile, not even the big boys are flying. So my morning reverie is broken only by the telephone calls from folks wondering what the visibility is and when conditions are forecast to improve.
Some of the callers feel moved to tell me that they can see clear across the bay from where they are.
But no one can see the runway.
And there are no photos of this utter whiteness because I cleverly left my camera at home today.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I head up to Soldotna tomorrow for exploratory surgery.
I hope that sounds more terrifying than the actual event. I am trying to maintain a Positive Mental Attitude. I keep telling myself that knowing what is going on is better than not knowing. And I can't ignore the condition any more--it is starting to impact other systems. I am reasonably sure that everything is benign and my life will continue on its merry way once this is dealt with but there is always that niggling fear that I will wake up from surgery to news no one wants to hear.
And then life will never be the same again.
But for now--PMA, okay?
Work was very quiet yesterday due to the strong winds and poor flying conditions, so I anticipated that traffic would be more brisk this morning.
Ha!
The skies cleared late last night, turning the moist air into fog. Since I arrived at work this morning--shortly before six--the visibility at the airport dropped from two miles to less than a quarter-mile. Before day-break it made it very dark outside--I couldn't see the lights of the terminal across the field--or even the runway lights. Now that day has broken (presumably) the view outside is milky white with ghostly impressions of trees and buildings in the vicinity.
Since the minimum visibility required for aircraft to make an approach to the Homer airport is a mile, not even the big boys are flying. So my morning reverie is broken only by the telephone calls from folks wondering what the visibility is and when conditions are forecast to improve.
Some of the callers feel moved to tell me that they can see clear across the bay from where they are.
But no one can see the runway.
And there are no photos of this utter whiteness because I cleverly left my camera at home today.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I head up to Soldotna tomorrow for exploratory surgery.
I hope that sounds more terrifying than the actual event. I am trying to maintain a Positive Mental Attitude. I keep telling myself that knowing what is going on is better than not knowing. And I can't ignore the condition any more--it is starting to impact other systems. I am reasonably sure that everything is benign and my life will continue on its merry way once this is dealt with but there is always that niggling fear that I will wake up from surgery to news no one wants to hear.
And then life will never be the same again.
But for now--PMA, okay?
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