Sunday 17 May 2015

All will be Revealed

Woke at 6.30 this morning, felt compelled to get up, fought the compulsion for another ten minutes then peeped out from behind the blind. Thick fog. Ah, I knew there was a good reason for getting out of bed so early. I love wandering and taking photos in the morning fog.











A blanket of silence prevails, apart from the mournful crow perched on the power pylon going kah kah kaaaaah. I think all the other birds are having a Sunday morning sleep in. The early morning walkers head into the void, and I hear the muted strains of the Picnic at Hanging Rock soundtrack accompanying their footsteps.




The beasts in the field, not sheep or cows but the ever present towering power pylons loom as usual, and I wonder whether they look more or less menacing as they emerge and stake their blighted claim on the landscape.



 



While much is obscured I notice things I would normally just pass by, the barbed wire stark against the foggy background, the little fungi no bigger than a bottle cap, cobwebs jewelled with dew. The grand vista will always grab our attention, but when taken away we have to refocus on what is closer at hand, and it’s the small details I love to observe.












I’ve written about fog before, but it never ceases to fascinate me, and for me is one of the great metaphors of life. Its all enveloping nature, how we can experience it as a chilling cold and dampness that works its way through layers of clothes and skin and settles right in your bones. Brings you to a standstill.  Makes you question which is the right direction, or if you think you know makes you doubt your ability to get there.

We hide some things, reveal others, keep our skeletons locked away tightly in musty cupboards, wander in circles or simply stand rooted to the spot waiting for the wind to shift or the sun to appear to release us from the grip of this intangible nothingness that prevents us from moving forward.

Fog can be an annoyance, a disruption which holds us up, but I’ve come to really enjoy it, not simply for the photographic opportunities, but for its quality to help me reflect, to slow down and wait. To see it as a prelude to something at times quite amazing.

Life can be a muddle. Things in the distance might be obscured, but funnily enough as you approach them they become clearer. Sometimes you just have to take the risk and make a move to find your way out of the fog.





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