Saturday, September 26, 2015


A quick pic taken at 6:44 yesterday morning on my way to work

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
-Carl Sandburg 
The last few days this fog metaphor poem by Carl Sandburg has come to mind more than once. The landscape has been cloaked in fog for much of each morning. This is a poem drilled into me somewhere in grade school so as the first stanza comes to me still decades later.
Smoke bush 'Nordine'  has florescence which seems to capture the dew and pull it from the surrounding air.
The poem seems to better capture the essence of fog even though I understand a lot more about dew points, air currents, jet streams and whatnot than I need to know to appreciate fog.
Fog has a visual presence. Spring and fall, it signals change for me. fog also has an innate melancholia.
More and more fall reminds me winter is coming to central Wisconsin.