It was so foggy Thursday morning when we were driving home from work. I hate fog. I hate it more than snow or ice or rain. You get disoriented and even if you know you are the 5th telephone pole from the corner, until you see those trees and mailbox, you feel like you are lost. About 20 minutes after we got home, the sun came up and the fog started to dissipate and the most beautiful hoarfrost emerged. I love hoarfrost-I love to say hoarfrost. The trees and bushes and powerlines were all covered. Booger (our youngest, also known as Drama Queen) was laughing at the fishing line and bobber hanging from the telephone wire from the house to the pole. Dad was showing her how to cast about 5 years ago, and the line and bobber are still hanging there. It was all covered also. Funny story about Boog and hoar, or rather hore? About 7 years ago she got off the bus and was practically in tears. When we asked her what was wrong she said the 'mean boys on the bus called me a bad name'. We asked her what name they called her and she said 'I can't say it, I'll get in trouble'. We promised her she wouldn't and she said 'they called me the 'H' word'. Now, we are standing there scratching our heads and looking at each other. H word? Heathen, harlot, haystack? We told her we couldn't think of any bad words that started with H other than hell, and she loudly whispered...."they called me a whore". We started laughing A) because she was like 8, and B) we had to explain to her that the H word really started with a W. She looked confused and we told her the W was silent, like the K in knife. When I told her yesterday morning that hoarfrost did indeed start with an H she was like "ha, ha , very funny Mom!". I explained that it really did, but it was hoar.
Here are the trees in our backyard.