A cloud fell from the sky last night. I’m not sure when it actually happened, since it was crystal clear when I went to sleep. This morning, when I looked out of the window, I had to wonder, “Am I dreaming?”
Fog has a way of playing games with you. That might be why I love it so much. Ordinary objects become fuzzy. Landscapes become otherworldly. With imagination, I can be anywhere: my backyard or a Transylvanian woods. Like snow, fog seems to muffle sound and makes you feel as if you’re the only person alive. As I went exploring, I could hear the random drip of melting ice crystals, their misty evaporation rising into the air. And as the sun warmed the atmosphere, the fog left and everything — including me — returned to it’s usual state of being.
I hope these photos offer a glimpse of the gauzy wonder that was a Sunday morning fog in late November.