I don’t like sun very much, you’ll not catch me sunbathing or even wearing a pair of shorts anytime soon. I do, however, love foggy days. This morning was an especially pleasant one, just right for a hike up the mountain. After several days of rain, the deerflies and mosquitoes hadn’t dried out yet but the birds, especially the migrating warblers, were making up for lost time.* Meanwhile the saturated ground muffled my steps entirely, so I could hear the other animals and they continued their business unbothered by the clutzy human.** Forests in dense fog spook a lot of people; and I can understand why, it is easy to get lost or to misjudge just how much longer it takes to go from one point to another while navigating a laurel hell. Yet, I find them beautiful, especially at this time of year when there are so many spring ephemerals, mosses, lichens, and trees in full growth. The bog, of course, was full of frogs and salamander eggs and nicely full of water, the early drought clearly didn’t bother it; it does have a spring (s) in it, but it also takes the runoff from the surrounding hilltop. The laurel, especially along the clearcut, where it is regrowing nicely, is about to bloom.
And back just in time, as the temperature is going up and the sun is coming out.
*Don’t ask me to identify them.
** the clutzy human was doing a complicated dance around the umpteen orange newts, which absolutely refuse to move when something large comes along.
). Yet…they were young once; someone, perhaps a doting grandmother?, had them stand there, ‘Stand up straight now!’ and carefully drew a line in heavy pencil. And time bends into stillness.
