No, the spellchecker did not suddenly go wacky … nor did I, but walking through Council Point Park on this foggy Friday had some mystical qualities to be sure. In my early morning jaunt, as the mist cast a cloak over me while I was walking to the Park, in my fogged-up head I was playing Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” … now my walk had no correlation at all to the song, but for the fog reference, and I was just thinking of that hauntingly beautiful music in that tune. While making my way around the two laps at the Park, I noticed that you couldn’t even see the other side of the perimeter path. In the expanse of the soccer field, ghost-like goal posts were scattered about and they looked a little eerie in the misty morning. Hulking trees seemed larger than normal as they loomed on the horizon. The grass was soaking wet and the slight breeze rustled in the trees causing them to shake droplets down on my head (at least I hope it was the trees and not a passing bird). Nary a critter was out this morning and I wondered if they deemed it unsafe to venture out when they could hardly see the humans as they walked along the trail. I would think they would rely on scent alone, but …. All the while the foghorns down on the River in Wyandotte kept bleating out a lonesome call, almost sounding dejected and forlorn, and then along came the 8:20 a.m. train likewise interrupting the still morn as it rolled on through the City. All in all, it was not the most-memorable walk, though the shadowy figures and misty morn provided fodder for fellow walkers and I to comment on. As I walked home, I decided it was a morning more suited for late October and the witchin’ season.