I've recently discovered a more profound attachment to fog and emotion. I remember when I was a child, waking, looking outside and everything being compromised by the fog. While it was beautiful, it always seemed to be a nuisense; for one, it made it more dangerous for those driving their car, or at least that is what I heard people say. I wasn't driving a car.
Now that I take walks each morning and evening here on the Gulf Coast, I encounter fog on a fairly regular basis. It is a stranger that comes in from the ocean just for a little while, but has a presence that, for me, is calming; calm is an unforced happiness. It seems to make things stand a little more still than usual. It holds everything in place, blurring their edges, making them commit to a single form and making them commit to an honesty without revealing everything. It's as if everything gains a better understanding of itself and it's surroundings... Everything is calm. Then the fog leaves.
The above picture was taken at the end of my street this morning. There used to be houses under and between all the trees but Katrina cleaned them out. I think I like it best just as ocean side trees and meadow.
