"A misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather
I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather,..." Shame on me, I don't know who wrote this old nursery rhyme, but as it's foggy and mysterious out there, it just seems to fit the day. "It's May, it's May, the darling month of May, the month when all the boys and girls go blissfully astray,"... Sign in to see full entry.