We were recently visited by some serious fog. The fog horn was blowing day and night, it seemed, much to the enjoyment of Little e, who never tired of saying, “I hear the fog horn again!” It’s amazing how different the world feels in the fog. Sort of like after a big dump of snow–ethereal, still and quiet. But fog adds that extra air of mystery, turns even a plain old neighbourhood you’ve grown tired of into something worthy of a walkabout with a camera. So that’s what Little e and I did. I also feel less like talking when I’m walking around in fog, as if the atmosphere demands silence, or at least reduced chatter. Maybe just a few toddler exclamations of “Look at the fog over there, Mummy!”
So I’m going to leave this post up to the photographs now, because I think that’s what’s needed. Just looking. Being enveloped and always slightly obscured.
…But I can’t help adding this Carl Sandburg poem first, which reminds me so much of high school poetry, but is still the one I had in my head when we woke up to the fog the other morning.
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
then moves on.
XO
Ria
Beautiful post and pics, Miss R. Makes a person wanna haiku! (Can it be a verb?) x
Yes, it can be a verb. In my world, anything can be a verb. That’s the fun of poetry (and words). Somehow it feels like fog would inspire mostly short poems–I don’t know why. I can’t imagine a long, multi-page poem about fog! But maybe there are and I’m just narrow-minded 🙂
I would take all that fog right about now. Really tired of the snow and ice here in Toronto. My dog was even sliding on all the ice when I took her for a walk this morning. Too much – it can go away now! Nice pictures, by the way.
Thanks, Anne. We just got a few inches of snow last night, so while it’s nothing like what you are enduring in Ontario, it feels more wintery here now!
And thanks for your kind words about Nobody’s Dog; I’m really glad you liked it!
So true about the ethereal feeling of fog – like a blanket of snow, but more mysterious. I was laughing with my cousin in Thunder Bay about how my favourite Christmases are foggy ones because it feels to cozy. He thought I was nuts of course, but how could he possibly understand West Coast weather?