I like fog because you have absolutely no choice but to surrender--there's no digging (i.e. blizzard), no flooding in the cellar, no early crops to usher under cold frames, no immediate concerns at all. In fact, (at least in my neck of the globe), doing anything at all is foolhardy--there is no light you can shine to cut it, to hurry it along, to push your agenda.
Fog insists that you believe what isn't there; it insists on your faith. It reminds you that your other senses, if necessary, can remind you of your place in space. It insists, too, that you have some close work you could do, that perhaps it's time to feel your way forward, mindfully, slowly, in no rush because certainly, this curtain isn't going anywhere anytime soon.