Sunny days are easy, what's not to like about sunshine and a blue sky? The expectations can be high though, you feel like you should be productive— clean the car, brush the dogs, go to the beach, have a picnic. I can come up with a myriad of things to do on a sunny day. A foggy day, on the other hand, is a whole different beast. The pressure is off. The blessing of a day shrouded in mist and fog is the slower cadence of normal rhythms. I can spend my day inside reading, cooking or just sitting and it seems like time well spent.
Will took both pictures in this post. He and Ted came home from school, picked up his camera and headed straight down the harbor to capture a few pictures. I love that my fourteen year old son appreciates the wild beauty of this place and wants to capture it on film (or memory card...film sounds better).
I bet you didn't know today is World Poetry Day?? I can't think of a better poetic subject than the shifting shapes and hues of a bank of fog. I like this poem, The Breathing, by Denise Levertov....something about the 'breathing too quiet to hear' that resonates with me.
An absolute
patience.
Trees stand
up to their knees in
fog. The fog
slowly flows uphill.
White
cobwebs, the grass
leaning where deer
have looked for apples.
The woods
from brook to where
the top of the hill looks
over the fog, send up
not one bird.
So absolute, it is
no other than
happiness itself, a breathing
too quiet to hear.
