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.
Like this swamp rose mallow, peeping through a thicket of lime green leaves and cat o’ nine tail stalks.
I asked the new batch of baby bunnies what they had found in the fog.
And although they tried to deny it, I looked like they had also found a real spring in their step.
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.
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.