I am looking at a small leafless Japanese Maple in a large planter outside the window where I am sitting and drinking coffee. It appears to be covered in tiny sparkling jewels, shimmering drops of water from the heavy fog that shrouds everything. As I walked to my car last night, sheets of mist fell slowly, reminding me of a time long ago when I delivered papers early in the morning. Then a light mist was falling and each time a tiny droplet hit my eye, the street lights, the entire universe suddenly and briefly went out of focus. It was a momentary blurring before my vision cleared…and then the next droplet and another blurring.
The other night was a full moon and fog. The moonlight lit the fog up and made everything appear to be floating in a bright, numinous void. Black silhouettes of trees, the glowing shifting fog…and off in the distance the mournful lowing of a fog horn.
I like to take photographs in mist…like the above: “Looking Towards Manzanita.”