Nothing but a Heavy Fog

Since retiring I generally time my walks to fit the sunniest part of the day. Yesterday, though, I had a busy schedule and had to walk early in the morning in very heavy fog or not at all.

There were times when I could barely see beyond Skye’s nose and often ended up just following the pull of the leash as Skye headed down the trail. After my glasses fogged up and I took them off, I probably ended up trusting Skye more than any rational man should.

In the fog, these familiar woods took on an entirely new look.
With the background muted, fallen trees and shrubs near the trail often seemed more formidable, even majestic. Although I was afraid we would see less wildlife than usual, we actually startled two seldom-seen Northern Flickers into flight, a sudden flash of white.

At one point we even found our way blocked by a giant old-growth fir recently brought down by heavy rains and strong winds. More worrisome was another large fir that had only half fallen, slanting across the trail, apparently held mid-fall by giant firs invisible in the deep fog. Though it probably would have been safer to turn back, I decided it would be quicker, or at least more exciting, to duck under the half-fallen tree and crawl over the fallen one.

What started out as a less-than-enthusiastic walk, ended up a pleasant surprise, and, even though skies remained decidedly grey, I started my hectic day a little stronger, a little more prepared for what lies ahead.

Shrouded in such a deep fog
Who can see what lies ahead?
Let’s pretend it’s the way.

3 thoughts on “Nothing but a Heavy Fog”

  1. There are a lot of pleasant paths
    marked The Way, dear Loren,
    whether there is fog or not
    or pretension, jive, or jibe.

  2. Yeah, I’ve changed this post several times already. First I published it without the last three lines. Then I posted it with a different three lines. Then I tried it without caps. Then with caps.

    Right now I’ll try it without the caps and see how I feel the next time I look at it. I find I’m much less apt to change entries if I don’t try to write “poetry,” though I’d like to think the last three lines add something to the entry.

  3. Sometimes it’s that fog that forces us to really understand what we already thought to be our path. It can also, of course, lend a peculiar excitement to an otherwise mundane walk.

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