If I learned anything this summer, it was that the weather in the mountains can surprise you on a regular basis. When I lived in eastern Wyoming, on the high plains, fog or mist usually appeared only in May, the month when winter became summer (it lasts longer in other places; some people call it spring). I would eagerly await this month and get up early to drive around with my camera, enjoying the crisp air and the low fog that hung in the hills. This summer, however, at 8,500 feet, we experienced a few mornings this way. And each time I awoke to fog, it was a surprise and a delight.