Through the Fog

The fog comes on little cat feet

It sits looking over harbor and city
On silent haunches and then moves on.

-- Carl Sandburg

Last week, the fog came not only to harbor and city but to the County Line. I love the Carl Sandburg quote. When I grow up, I want to write poetry like that.

So why does it "speak" to me? I suppose it could be because we have a yard full of kittens of all shapes, sizes and colors. Randy has managed to tame some of them, but others scurry off when they hear the latch on the back door. They dash under bushes. They wiggle through the fence. They run for cover in an old stone fire pit.

Last week, the fog came to the County Line for a few hours. For me, the scenery from the foggy morning was a poem in itself.

The air was pregnant with moisture. But despite the heaviness of the dew and droplets clinging to every surface, the air was cool.

It was a prelude to fall, a welcome break from the 100-degree heat that saps every molecule of moisture and energy from the body.

It lent a different atmosphere to my walk along the County Line.

When it is foggy out, the view is somewhat obstructed. But as I approached landmarks, the small details somehow became more visible than they are in the bright sunlight.


It revealed treasures I would never have seen without the drops of moisture clinging to every surface.

The flash of color in the bushes brought me closer to the ditch to explore. The spider web was hidden among the American plum bushes. Its intricate pattern was revealed by the dewdrops. How can this fragile web support this added weight?

The drops of moisture added dimension to a weed I passed by just the day before when the sun was shining. I saw the beauty through the fog, rather than in the bright light of day.

Is that the way life sometimes is? Do we sometimes need those foggy, stormy times of life to truly see beauty in the sunshine?

Through the mist and fog, sometimes there is clarity ... if we just look hard enough.