The
temperature fell twenty degrees overnight with the onset of a cold front that
arrived having little fanfare. The morning thermometer registered 38 degrees,
and it was deathly quiet in the pre-dawn, save for the sound of distant cars
driving on Route 31.
The
drive to Holden was particularly striking, in the low valley out of Paxton
where the causeway divides the Kendall Reservoir. On both sides, the water
surface had wispy tendrils of rising vapor, so much so that the lakes looked
ghostly alive with thousands of spectral shapes which moved about slowly in the
gentle breeze there.
These
shapes were so dense that their numbers obscured the far side spillway house to
the south, its stone structure hidden on the opposite shore.
As the
road ascended from the causeway up toward Holden, there was a peculiar line of
low fog, no thicker than several feet and just at the level of the windshield.
In an instant the car climbed through the layer and emerged higher on, and in
the rearview mirror the valley became hidden altogether.
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