It's a foggy morning here along the riverbank. The treeline along the opposite side of the channel between the cottage and the island is all but invisible. Sycamores and box elders rise like ghosts from the pale mist. Mallards thirty yards downstream, doubtless paddling about their favorite pool, quack unseen, their voices loud in the cloistered silence of the enveloping fog.
Moon the dog and I amble about—she busily snuffling through the piles of wet brown leaves, while I try to find things to photograph. In the treetops overhead, a squirrel pauses to balance on a twig and check us out.
Over by the board fence which marks the southern boundary of my streamside acre, the patriarch sycamore, a huge, towering specimen that is easily old enough to have been around when the Founding Fathers drew up the U.S. Constitution in 1787, loomed mysteriously, its topmost branches fading, spectral, almost vaporous, as if they were simply merging into and becoming one with the fog.If I had more time, this would be a great morning to grab the camera gear, jump into the truck, and go driving around making fog shots. But…I have to work. All my editors suddenly decided yesterday that with Thanksgiving coming on Thursday, they'd like to have my columns in no later than Tuesday—in case they decide to take off from Wednesday through Sunday for the holiday. Seeing as how I have almost all of Tuesday filled with appointments, and things to do on Sunday, that leaves today and Monday to get a week's worth of work completed.
Alas, I suppose I'd better get to work…
———————
28 comments:
Darn work sure gets in the way!
I think it would be very difficult to come up with something to write about on a regular basis. Oh the pressure!
Cicero…
Yup, lacking the foresight to insist on being born independently wealthy regularly leads to inconvenience and compromise—and can seriously cut into one's time for idleness and frivolity.
Honestly, I've never had much of a problem with writer's block. It may take me fifteen minutes to get going, but rarely longer. What takes time is that I fiddle, tweak, and rewrite as I go, all the while trying to walk the line between listening to my perfectionist gene and just doing the best job I can on a given day. Deadlines are just part of the game…
Actually I work better with a bit of pressure. Nothing like a deadline looming to get me going. Otherwise I tend to dawdle.
That's a beautiful shot of the river. Oh I would love to live on riverfront of a clear river. the only ones around here are muddy and drain large areas of the hill country and flood with some regularity.
HI GRIZZ-
I am such a fan, lover of foggy mornings, foggy days and the mystery involved. Your first pictures and first paragraph took my breath away with it's vivid imagery and words of tangible, imaginable details. I was right there, with you hearing adn seeing it all. AMazing.
It is overcast here, not foggy, rather gray and cloudy. I love days like this and I am excited to have a day such as this to write my "Why I Am Thankful For You Letters" for those who will be here for Thanksgiving dinner. Such a time honored tradition. My Mom has all of hers tucked safely in her well-read bible.
Don't work too hard.
Love to you my friend especially through the fog....
Gail
peace......
Ah work, Grizz! How it interferes with our lives - and I would have loved to see more foggy shots - it makes the world so musterious, doesn't it. Have a good weekend.
Nice shots, Grizz, especially the header photo. I love the way that fog makes even the most mundane things mysterious. May your work be completed with dispatch so that you can get a head start on enjoying the upcoming holiday weekend yourself. Happy Thanksgiving!
Ellen…
This is a pretty little river—really not any bigger than some nearby creeks—and typical of those found in Ohio. It does get high and muddy, of course, but is otherwise clear and well-behaved. A nice place to live.
I'm an excellent dawdler myself, and agree that deadlines help to keep me productive. I don't mind them, actually—except I already had the next few days all planned out, including writing times, and this just upsets my schedule. Nothing serious, just a bit of a morning grumble.
Gail…
The fog is now gone, though a a fairly thick overcast remains so the day is dark and damp, the light flat. Not too cold, however.
Actually, a pretty good day for working. I'm oddly energized by such days—possibly due to a drop of old druid blood still coursing about my veins. Don't worry, though, I'm still not apt to overwork myself. :-)
Take care…
Weaver…
Indeed, fog is mysterious and adds a temporary other-worldness to familiar scenes. You have to look for really good photos, sometimes, but this morning would have been a prime opportunity.
George…
Really good fog shots, I think, need that range from sharp to faded to shadowy to ghostly outline to simply imagined if they're to work well. The header pix was the only one of today's photos that came anywhere close to such a span.
Maybe next time…
Your first photo is so good it makes up for not having many. I like how the fog enhances the rocks in your river. I woke to a misty fog also this morning, frost yesterday...fog today!
Thank you for sharing these moody, mysterious shots in spite of the time crunch for your submissions. Of course, I realize how much you enjoy your walks and finding just the right shot ... so I'm not feeling toooooooo sorry for you!
:-)
Beautiful shots of the fog! Hate deadlines! They do often give me the adrenalin to focus, though! Good luck.
Scribe (which I prefer to Grizz...sorry)--the air of mystery that the fog evokes puts me in mind of Brigadoon. Appears for a blink in time, then gone.
Wanda…
Huh—didn't have fog here yesterday. I appreciate the nice comment re. the first shot…it works as well as it does for exactly the reasons I outlined to George. It's that crisp-to-nothing fading that gives the real sense of fog, and the rocks play a big part.
Kelly…
Well I've quit work for the day and am going to vegetate awhile on the couch and unwind. I really don't mind deadlines, so long as they're not really, really tight. I once had seven 2500 word feature articles with photos to get in over a weekend. The pix were no problem. I wrote five of the seven articles in one sitting. Took me 12 hours straight, and I swore I'd never do such a thing again no matter how much it paid and how badly I needed the cash. Lucky for me, I never got presented with the choice and had to actually make the decision. I've also had to do, many times, a 1500 word column in a couple of hours. That may not sound tough—and for some writers like those who regularly work for newspapers on tight deadline, it isn't—but for me that was like holding a gun to the back of my head. That kind of deadline I HATE. I'd imagine painting to deadline would be about the same way…reasonable time os okay, near-impossible time is awful.
Bonnie…
Yeah, you got my number…I do like to please myself with shots—and enjoy finding and making 'em, of course. And that's partly because the photography side is totally different than the writing side, visual rather than whatever you consider writing (mental alchemy?) It depends on me, but also depends on what's there to photograph, and to a lesser extent technical skill and equipment. From a psychologist's view, what does that say—a sidestepping of total responsibility for the outcome?
KGMom…
I don't think I ever see a heavy fog without be reminded of various stories—Brigadoon, sea adventures, ghost yarns, various science fiction tales, a piece or two by Steven King, adaptations of Sherlock Holmes, Jack-the-Ripper, and countless others from the Gaslight Era. Moody, mysterious stuff. Why, anything can happen when there's fog.
You know best what it says about you, but from my limited point of view it says you are a wise, balanced man who is able to adapt to the circumstance.
Bonnie…
Well, I'm flattered speechless…a rare condition. And just for the rest of tonight, I'm going to pretend your assessment fits this nervous, foolish fellow who often doesn't so much adapt as reconciles.
Reconcile can mean resigning oneself to what one must, but it can also mean (from the French) to find the good in whatever presents itself - to create harmony where there could more easily be (external or internal) discord. I imagine you are just as good at the latter as you are at the former.
Bonnie…
I don't know that I'm equally proficient at both—but I do try…which is why I chose the word. But I thank you for your vote of confidence.
Thanks for taking the time from your pressing schedule to photograph and so beautifully describe the fog. It's a rare treat.
I do hope you managed to get everything completed. It is very cold here Grizz, -31 with the wind chill and lots of snow....:-)Hugs
Hilary…
You're quite welcome, but really, it didn't take all that long. I'm halfway done with my work, BTW, and ought to be finished tomorrow evening. With luck and providing I don't go playing hooky to make photos. (Not likely as rain is predicted.)
Bernie…
It's been a nice warm day here, sunny most of the time—and even now, the temperature is 62˚F. Sounds cold where you're at—so stay warm.
I'll make my deadlines okay, I think. I have all day tomorrow to work and finish.
I am always drawn to fog.
These photos make me wish for a day of it to head out into.
Deb…
Me, too…and I thought today would be just that. The weather gurus predicted heavy fog for this morning, even issued "fog advisories." I woke up well before dawn, looked out—nothing. Kept looking out every so often—still nothing.
The sun came up, the sky stayed blue, and the fog apparently slept in. Maybe next time…
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