I am not a meteorologist. I cannot give you the scientific reasoning behind fog aside from a brief explanation of temperature and moisture but that’s not what you came here for. What I can give you is this:
Fog is mystical, magical. Fog lends mystery to the mundane, drama to the ordinary.
Fog envelops, surrounds, shrouds.
Fog sneaks up on us, twisting our surroundings and pushing us off balance, causing us to wonder if perhaps we should turn back and spend our evening at home near the hearth with a dog who does not howl because he cannot see the full moon.
Fog is the form the vampire takes in order to steal into your bedroom through the keyhole or from around the panes of glass in your window. Fog takes no heed of ropes of garlic or sacred amulets meant to ward against evil.
Fog obscures the path before you so you stumble blindly. Fog follows you so there’s no way for you to see your assailants until they’re already upon you, all claws and teeth and things best left unsaid.
Fog is the icy breath of October at the nape of your neck.
Fog is alive.
Happy October, people.