No, I am not talking about the fog, that has settled in my brain the last few weeks. The time is just slipping through my fingers and I wanted to slow down for the time during Advent. But guess what, it didn’t happen. I don’t know what went wrong this year.
I am talking about the weather. This year it has been unseasonable warm on the East coast. It does not feel like Winter at all, nor does it look like it around here.
In the Mornings though I love the mystical feeling when you walk out and can’t see nothing but the empty trees poking holes into the fog. Here and there a light from a car slicing through the thick puffy air.
This is the stuff that inspired great novels. This is the weather to read a good book, curl up on your couch and dive into the thick fog of mystery.
This morning when I was in the car with my oldest, she said “wow, look at this fog, it looks like the world just got swallowed over there. You can’t even see my School” And indeed it was so dense, that you barely saw your own hands in front of you. The cars coming towards us first looked like creatures appearing out of nothing and the ones in front of us got swallowed by the big gray puff. It’s fun to let your imagination go wild and spin all kind of fun stories of what is going on in this foggy mist.
I love how fog swallows all the noise and makes the world a little bit more silent.
The Fog – Poem by Walterrean Salley
The fog is an illusion—
A master of disguise,
Which hides the tangible
Before our very eyes.
But when the fog has lifted
Everything’s still there,
And the tangible
Only seemed to’ve disappeared.
In the early morning
Or late at night,
The fog descends
Upon various sites.
It gives an air of mystery
That has long prevailed.
Is the fog’s foggy veil.
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What does fog inspire in you?
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