Fog
It almost never happens this way.
Most days, the weather is a roll of the dice if you take US 12 to the west and up Marvin Hill. The top of the hill, a town anticlimactically called Summit, is host to an annual Fog Fest and weather that can vary from our home in the valley like night or day. Or like dry and clear or full-on storm.
All in a 20-mile stretch of highway.
Over the weekend, the peak and the valley experienced a role-reversal. We left home in the fog, hoarfrost’s spikes gathering on trees and tall grass in its trademark “You’re beautiful when you’re angry” sort of way.
As we coasted along, Lane mentioned that he’d heard the fog would lift at the crest of the hill.
It did.
We emerged from the Narnian white of that thick bank of fog into blinding sun at the peak, the front and rear tires briefly straddling these two stark worlds. I looked back to see the swirling band of fog.
And then I looked ahead to see that the clear blue sky wouldn’t last. We were surrounded by fog at the top of the hill like the swath of hair circling the dome of a monk’s caricature.
In a matter of minutes — five? maybe ten? — we were back in the White Witch’s wintery grip as though Spring had never once batted her flirting lashes.
Metaphor’s grab bag stands gaping open. Reach in and pull something out.
::
Photos:
Hoarfrost in the front yard (top)
A 5-7 minute series of photos from the road (bottom 3)
(If I’d been driving, believe you me, the car would have been parked at the roadside a while to take this in a little better. This was the best I could do from the back seat at 65 mph.)
“’You’re beautiful when you’re angry’ sort of way.”
I can totally picture this. Sounds like an interesting place, Lyla.
2012/02/08 at 7:42 AM
Thanks Sam. That hilltop is kind of like South Dakota’s own Bermuda triangle. Just never know what’s going to happen before you get there. To see the sun was, well, odd.
2012/02/08 at 11:42 AM
A picture’s worth a thousand words. Love this.
2012/02/08 at 8:03 AM
Thanks Sandy. Happy to see you today.
2012/02/08 at 11:41 AM
“Metaphor’s grab bag stands gaping open. Reach in and pull something out.”–OK, that’s about the best two sentences I’ve ever read.
And I’ll just say that short series of pics looks my life (not just now, always). The important thing is to watch the fog–it clues you into what’s next while still obscuring the actual future.
2012/02/08 at 8:08 AM
Seeing the fog roll in gives good advantage, Megan.
2012/02/08 at 11:41 AM
This is incredible. You make me want to live where you live…
2012/02/08 at 8:14 AM
Likewise. I might like to stand next to your water for one of those sunsets…
2012/02/08 at 11:40 AM
65 mph, eh? WOW. You, dear friend, are among the finest grab-bag-dippers I know. Thanks for this.
2012/02/08 at 10:21 AM
Only for the bottom ones, Diana. Don’t let me try to pretend I didn’t have to stand still a while for the top one.
But it was an amazing view, from the yard and from the road. Crazy.
2012/02/08 at 11:39 AM
I reached in the grab bag, and pulled out a meta. Now I have to ask, “whats a meta for?”
2012/02/08 at 10:58 AM
David, David.
2012/02/08 at 11:38 AM
I’m reading a book right now which is set in the mountains of North Carolina. Fog rolls in heavy in the fictional mountain town, so all the local gift shops sell gray bottles which they market as “Fog in a Bottle.” Wouldn’t you have just loved to bottle this?
That first photo is seriously cool.
2012/02/08 at 3:52 PM
Last time we visited Grandpa, we got him to tell the story of the April Snow Water. His grandfather (I think I have the right generation there) used to bottle water than melted off snow that fell in April and sold it as a cure for ailments to the eyes. We discovered that day that we are descendants of a snake oil salesman. Apparently, it was quite popular and sold coast to coast.
Why folks couldn’t figure out how to melt and bottle their own, well, that part remains a mystery to me. They had no instructional YouTube videos in that day, I suppose.
2012/02/08 at 3:55 PM
I suspect that Grandpa was telling you about selling melted snow in bottles, because that was his first snow job! I wonder if he took the money he made and deposited it in a snow bank?
2012/02/08 at 5:27 PM
Between you and Uncle Weird this has been quite a trip … a good one!
2012/02/08 at 5:58 PM
Most days, Susan, we don’t know what to do with the Uncle. That’s why we make him live in Wisconsin.
2012/02/09 at 11:27 AM
I think one of your superpowers must be to slow fog, car rides, and my reading.
You always create these wonderful opportunities for us to slow down and pay attention. Thanks.
2012/02/09 at 7:07 PM
We’ve had no Narnian white for the past two years, despite my sons’ prayers. He’s a bit jealous of your photos, as am I of that very deep bag of metaphors.
2012/02/09 at 9:41 PM