Poetry Travel & Food

Every Fog Has its Day

I have seen fog three times this week. Each time, this Carl Sandburg poem came to mind:

The fog comes 
on little cat feet.

It sits looking 
over harbor and city 
on silent haunches 
and then moves on.

“Fog” by Carl Sandburg

There is indeed beauty in fog, but there are plenty of other weather occurrences that are sublime — you’ve heard me go on and on (and on and on) about sunrises. Sandburg’s poem is memorable because it challenges readers to think about fog the same way they would think about a person. In the real world, fog is a cloud at ground level. In Sandburg’s world, fog is alive and observant, but unwilling to interfere in the lives of the people and places it touches. There’s something supernatural about that.

Enough poetry. Let’s look at some fog pictures from this week. Here’s what I saw Monday morning on my run — the bay was completely obscured.

Hillsborough Bay

On Tuesday, the view from Bayshore was pretty much the same.

Bayshore Boulevard at Rome Avenue

By Wednesday morning, the view from Bayshore was back to normal. These photos were taken from the same spot Tuesday and Wednesday. You can see the difference if you swipe backward and forward.

Tampa was fog-free on Thursday, but the Complimentary Spouse and I encountered more of the thick gray stuff on our drive through rural Alabama. This photo was taken on U.S. Highway 231 between Ozark and Troy.

Driving through Southern Alabama

Of course, I had seen fog many times before Monday. Here are photos from foggy experiences I’ve had around the world.

Fiordland National Park, New Zealand, 2010
Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand, 2010
Marin Headlands, 2012
Juneau, Alaska, 2012
Paris, 2018

A final thought about fog, which I shall keep in mind as I continue writing my novel:

Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

E.L. Doctorow