Today's update is a simple homage to the beauty of fog. I find it amazing the way it can totally transform the environment, making everything beyond the few metres around you invisible, creating such beauty but also incredible isolation and even fear; who knows what waits in the mist?
Pictures here.
The mist at this time has suddenly brought about the christmas feeling, for me anyway its a much nicer feel to everything.
For me, fog is most beautiful in an already quiet environment such as a field or town in the very early hours of the day. It takes away much of what you could normally see so as to disorientate you and give that blissful feeling of being lost in a wonderful world not far from the one you normally inhabit.
The fog in the city, during the day, like the one that has been lingering over Chengdu for the last few days fails to stir the emotion like that in the green county of Hampshire.
Thanks for the comments. I couldn’t agree more with the feeling of being lost in a familiar world.
“Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ‘prentice boy on the deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.”
Bleak House by Charles Dickens.
Perhaps not such a enthusiastic portrayal of fog, but relevant nonetheless.