There was a hint of blue sky to the south-east; we headed in that direction, driving to Cloverdale on farm roads to the south of the highway. The mist drew a curtain around us, isolating us in a circle with one or two items at a time:
Entrance to an unseen home.
(Trout swimming in the mist?)
We stopped to photograph two eagles in a tree, just over our heads; all we got were grey shapes. A hawk on a telephone pole was a brownish silhouette. We found a heron in a ditch:
When Laurie's flash went off, the heron rose and flew away, disappearing almost instantly into the fog.
Laurie leaned out the car window to take a photo of starlings on a lawn; they didn't approve:
Meanwhile, on the driver's side of the car:
We never did find that patch of blue sky. Maybe tomorrow.