Fog Sings A Siren Song
"And now, behold, here came the fog to besiege me in my chosen altitudes, and yet it came so beautifully that my first thought was of welcome."
—Robert Louis Stevenson
After uncountable weeks of frigid cold, temperatures have warmed, causing a great melt of snow and ice. The ground, already saturated and still frozen down below, refuses to accept any more water. Overnight, temperatures again dropped, though still hovering above freezing. Such conditions are ripe for fog, and fog sings a siren song to photographers. This morning I rose early, slung gear into the car, grabbed a coffee and donut to go, and drove off through the fog, the woods my destination. Trees and fog sing a beguiling duet, harmonious music for the eyes.
The fog was delightful in its waltz with the trees, but another delight was the discovery of a considerable amount of greenery, poking up from the forest floor, peeking coyly through the muddy ground, fallen leaves, and remnants of snow. The green shoots sing a reassuring song of springtime, with the promise of greater warmth to come. New life is gestating. A morning walk in the foggy wood left me hopeful, eager for the rebirth.