Who stole the lake?

We'd been having a cool and moist spring even for Bellingham. Nights were in the 40s, days in the, well, upper 40s to 50s, and mud everywhere. That meant that when the news predicted a heat wave, everyone got ready.
They got it right; the heat rolled in right on time. It moved from 40s early in the week to 80s by the weekend…and this had some fun implications for our W.
We went to the lake we usually go to, via the normal route. We went down the street, crossed the one busy arterial, and then went along the park till we got there. The air was heavy, but invisible.

Which is what made the lake so surprising. When we got there, it was gone. To be specific, a heavy fog had completely whited the lake out. We could see an arc along the beach—some bushes, and the first dock on each side beyond the park—but beyond that, nothing. We can usually see the houses across the lake, and all the water birds and water fun happening on the lake.

Today, white. Oz stared at the white, jerking her head at the bird cries. She looked at me. What's going on? She put a paw in, but didn't dive in with her usual abandon. For her, it was clearly a bit off. For me, it was simply beautiful, and doubly so because unexpected. I looked behind. Clear air, and a completely visible woods. I looked forward. A white curtain closing off the world, and an invisible lake.

Ah.