Saturday morning I was driving north on the River Road and I saw the most amazing sight. It was the fourth or fifth day in a row where we woke to a thick fog, But this day, as I drove down the steep hill at Franklin Avenue, I noticed the fog had settled. There was a light coating of white on the road, the sidewalks, the grass, the trees. It hadn’t snowed. It appeared that the fog just settled where it was and remained. It was beautiful. I pulled over, crossed the street and wandered through the coated trees. There were groups of runners on the path and I was envious I wasn’t experiencing this while on a run, but glad I saw it just the same. As it happened, I was on my way to a newish Writing Group I joined last fall. One of the members read a lovely story about her mother’s last days and another member called part of it “Real World Magic.” I couldn’t help but think that was what I had seen that morning on the way in. It was magical. And it was real.