now with foto!

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.       ~~Carl Sandburg

 

I love the fog.  I love it when it sits low over the city and softens the edges of everything.  I love walking through it, the mist wetting my hair.  I love the way it changes the landscape of the city, swallowing the tops of things, muting the colors.  Everything seems quieter, more peaceful; there is mystery even in the ordinary--you don't always know what's out there, just beyond.

Comments

[Kimberly]

I love the low bellow of the foghorns, rising up from the water. At the top of our hill, over 400 feet above Elliott Bay, they are more a presence at the edge of one's awareness than an identifiable sound.

[Cowtown Pattie]

When I lived on the Texas coast, we would get killer fogs; so dense it was virtually impossible to drive in. It made me claustrophobic mostly.

Other times, I could see a fog rolling in from the gulf, its fingers stretching like scary crone hands, curling and wicked.

[Elisson]

I tried pinging you, but Haloscan and Typepad are apparently in the midst of a pissing contest.

I have a post up that was inspired by this lovely one of yours.

[beemerman]

Cool photo!