There have been a lot of foggy days around here this spring. Some find it depressing, but I like how it makes the countryside look.
A soft landscape wrapped in ground fog. Quiet. Calming.
As much as I dislike winter, the arrival of spring is… messy. I was out playing in the rain last weekend and found this evidence of winter’s grime being washed away.
The sun hasn’t been up an hour yet. Fog still sits in the valleys. The livestock are just heading out to the fields.
I don’t know about you, but for me a foggy day often gives a soft-focus, romantic sort of look to a scene. Perhaps because it hides some of the less photogenic details. This old farm is an example:
But in other places, a foggy day can make a scene feel much more sinister. I see a jagged shape jutting from the mist and begin to wonder: “What worse things are hidden from view?” The fog allows my imagination to conjure up something far more interesting than the mundane reality hidden by the fog. The next photo I at first found rather scenic – a stand of trees on an island in the marsh, grasses and rushes in the foreground, the far shore arcing into the mists. Then I started to look closer and noted that most of the trees on the island are dead, and lining the barely visible far shore are more dead trees. Hmmm.
I am curious. I want to see more of the far side. I struggled over and was rewarded with this jarring, jagged, yet unsettlingly beautiful view:
I thought for sure I would see Rudolph. Really. It was December 24 and it was very, very foggy. In some spots the fog was thick, in other spots the foggy curtain would draw back to reveal the icy lacework it had left behind. Enjoy. (Let me know if you see Rudolph lurking in these anywhere!)
Yesterday was a really foggy day here in Caledon. We often get days like this in the fall, although they usually come in October. I like the way fog can simplify the background in a photo and add an air of mystery. I started out on a nearby country road…
Just down the road is a golf course with dry-stacked stone walls meandering over the hills. I processed these to try to convey the almost deafening quiet of this place in the thick fog.
Next stop was a cornfield. It reminded me of a Steven King short story I read many years ago… I started to see this place in a darker, creepier context.
Just up the road from the cornfield, a U-pick orchard loomed up out of the fog. With their arthritic branches scratching at the fog above, the apple trees seemed even more ominous than the cornfield.