July 4th – The Morning After

I awoke this morning to a thick, heavy fog…


It matched the way my brain felt, after a sleepless night of fireworks in the ‘hood and my concern for all the critters.

But all is well. I’m still here, and so are they.

It’s time to share the beauty of the new day, come what may!    ❤

The Magic of Fog

Some people shy away from a rolling fog as it moves in.

Me? I can’t wait to get out into the fog, just to see what kind of magic it has spun — and who might be out and about, like me.

The fog the other morning at Forest Beach was as intense as I’ve ever seen it; everything covered with thick, misty clouds.


Yet while some things seemed to fade from view, some of the fall color seemed more vibrant than ever.

Even the faded-out rosa rugosa hips looked more alive than they had just the day before.


Gazing out to sea, I heard the sound of a fishing boat and could just barely make out the shape of a gull keeping watch on a jettie.


Further up the beach I spotted the red hull of a sunfish, yet the fog over the dunes made it look like the beach disappeared just beyond them.


Many of the plants and bushes along the marsh were covered with diaphanous dew-covered webs.


Intricate in their shapes and patterns, I could picture them as the inspiration for a custom silk fabric.  😉


Even some of the wild berries were covered with the delicate little webs; dew droplets hung heavy from nearby twigs.


As the morning light shone through the webs and dew droplets it made me think of a Christmas tree trimmed with tiny white bulbs and glistening tinsel!

By the time I made it to Cockle Cove, the rising sun was making an all-out effort to break through the fog.


Beautiful blue cedar berries and more dew droplets hung from the boughs of every cedar tree along the creek.


And as I slowly turned my camera further up the creek, I was suddenly startled by the reflection of a great blue heron who was busy fishing!


I smiled as he slowly peered into a shallow pool. He almost seemed to be saying, “Mirror, mirror that I see, who could be any lovelier than me?”


But we were not alone for breakfast, as several black ducks emerged through the mist to join the party.

Quacking softly, as all ducks do.


Meanwhile the sky was brightening. The sunlight was working its magic on the bittersweet along the marsh’s edge.


Nearly every berry seemed to have a tiny dew droplet all its own!


Just then I heard some sker-plashing in the shallow water past the old cedar where I stood.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a pair of black ducks in the mist, moving up the channel with great haste.


Upon closer look, I noticed that the one in the lead was carrying a tiny crab in its beak as he exclaimed, “It’s time for brunch, time for brunch! Don’t be late, it’s time for brunch!”


“Why thank you for the reminder, Little Duck,” I responded.

And although I hated to leave, I had to admit I was a little hungry, too.

I guess all that fog magic had given me quite the appetite!  😉

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Lost and Found in the Fog

I love fog. Growing up here on the Cape, I find it energizing.

Yet fog can distort things, too. It can blur one’s view, disorient one’s sense of direction and place in the landscape.

The other day as I pulled into the parking lot at Forest Beach, I could see the fog rolling in from the sea, billowing and swirling as it came. Creeping up and over the dunes and into the marsh. Muting the sun’s rays, dissipating everything that is familiar to me in a marsh I know so well.


I have also found that the fog can bring new things to light; even unexpected things, together.

As I looked across the marsh, I was taken with a group of ospreys and crows.

Ordinarily, an osprey will fiercely defend its nesting pole against anything coming near. Yet here they were, ospreys and crows, sharing one of the “fish hawks’ ” favorite perches.


As I walked along the marsh’s edge I noticed a few things that just the day before, in brighter sunshine, I had completely overlooked!

Like this swamp rose mallow, peeping through a thicket of lime green leaves and cat o’ nine tail stalks.


And this pokeweed, the blossoms hanging heavy and just getting ready to bloom.


I saw a cluster of nightshade, it’s delicate petals so vibrant and deeply purple against a foggy frame. It took my breath away.


A cluster of poison ivy, changing from green to crimson almost seemed to whisper, Time’s are changing, autumn’s a-comin’.


I asked the new batch of baby bunnies what they had found in the fog.


They told me that the damp, cooling air had drawn them out of their nest to a new patch of ground, where they were delighted to find tasty greens to nibble on.

And although they tried to deny it, I looked like they had also found a real spring in their step.

Just like mine.  😉
Over at the Mill I could barely make out the ospreys overhead.


Yet I knew they were out there. They called out to one another, their cries piercing the foggy air as they brought their fresh catches home to the nest.


Across the flats, two great egrets were trying to ignore all things osprey.

Slowly striding through the grass, they seemed to be reveling in the murky landscape; stretching out their necks and with keen eyes looking for signs of swishy fish tails.

A familiar friend atop Gull Cottage reminded me that the fishing’s always best when the fog rolls in.

He told me it’s because the crabs can’t see you coming for them in the fog.


I guess he would know.

By the time I got back around to the parking lot at Forest Beach, the fog had all but covered everything in the marsh from view.


But that’s what fog does.

It can sometimes make you feel disoriented, perhaps even a bit lost.

The next time you feel lost in the fog, maybe take a deep breath.

And look around.

You might just discover something new, thanks to fog, something you might not have seen without it.

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