Waylaid by Fog
I must go in, the fog is rising.
Emily Dickinson
Emily’s Final Dream
Hush now, the fog has come-
a spirit has laid his body down
settling over the village:
Slowly, quietly, she leaves the warmth
of her little house
and crosses the dewy lawn.
Passing by, she notices
how a dandelion, long gone to seed
now sparkles with diamonds.
She steps softly over the grass
onto the wooded trail beyond.
The fog spirit,
with its cool, liquid, murkiness
directs her gaze,
obscuring what doesn’t matter,
revealing only what is needful.
Step by step it leads her through the woods.
Silhouettes of trees appear in slow succession,
a line of soldiers passing-
looming large, then fading from sight
on either side of her path.
The soft thrumming of a woodpecker
draws her eyes upward,
where the last few oak leaves
begin their tumbling, twirling spiral
down to the forest floor.
She watches until they land.
She is being led to the river,
to a small clearing
where a narrow dock reaches out -
a beckoning arm.
She walks along to its end
where the muted light of the sun
Is barely visible through the heavy mist -
It’s more like a full moon than a star,
with reflected light glimmering softly on the surface of the water.
To her left, stands a tall dead branch
curving upward in the milky light -
reaching toward the unreachable.
The sight fills her with a deep longing
to understand this final mystery,
this tugging on her heart toward something beyond.
Where is the gentle spirit leading her?
In the way of dreams, she suddenly comprehends
the wisdom of resting in the unknown.
Everything she needs to know is here now.
She takes a final step forward.
The fog has come.
She must go in.
The opening quote by Emily Dickinson is reported to be her final words her death.
A foggy morning this week made me change all my morning plans and go for a walk at the River Bluff Park in Saugatuck.
I paint the fog - I think of its fresh moistness - its stillness - its mystery.
Douglas Lockwood
I am so grateful that I have the freedom to make choices like this one. I love the fog, and whenever I have a chance to be in it - I try to seize the moment.
I decided to write this week instead of next, since next week is the Thanksgiving Holiday in the U.S. and we will be busy cooking and visiting with friends, neighbors and family. I hope all of you who celebrate have a wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday.
Thank you so much for being here. See you in two weeks!
The fog seems to bring emphasis to every silhouette; give meaning to every dark shadow.
Camping in the Rain
A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
A view of the start of Appalachia at sunset
The thing about
camping in the rain
is that when the rain stops
you go outside-
and you are lighter,
the world is lighter,
the birds are singing again
and a little joy creeps back
into your heart
and you walk the muddy path
splashing just a little bit more
than strictly necessary
smiling like you never saw the sun
until just today
when it pushed its way
past the heavy clouds
and shined.
Rain-soaked White Cave Path at Mammoth Cave National Park, where my boots got muddy, and I smiled to be back outside.
Tall grass flattened by rushing rainwater on the hillside next to the path to the historic cave entrance at Mammoth Cave
A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.
John Steinbeck
This trip was not what I expected. I expected quiet and peace and trails and warm nights reading by a campfire. What I got was a lot of rain. Thunder. Tornado and hail warnings. More rain. Flooded campgrounds. Then, periodically, the sun would come out and I would get out and go. It made every moment I spent outside really special. In Arkansas, I got to experience the warm steam rising from the ground at Hot Springs National Park on a cold day. In Tennessee, I got to run along the Mississippi River. In Alabama, I got to hike with my sister, Rita at a beautiful little trail system near her home. In Kentucky, I ventured into a deep cave (see last week’s post here) and came out with a resolution to face my fears instead of avoiding them, and I’m excited about that shift in my attitude. The trip wasn’t what I expected at all; but on reflection, I think it was exactly what I needed it to be.
Now I am home in Michigan, where all the spring flowers are blooming early. The air is cool and crisp in the morning, and the neighborhood animals (and the neighbors!) are making me feel welcome. I’m so happy to be here. Thank you for being here with me. See you next week.
a mass of lilies of the valley cover the ground in the woods near my home
Winter Joys
Look at the trees, look at the birds, look at the clouds, look at the stars-and if you have eyes you will be able to see that the whole existence is joyful.
Rajneesh
A tree standing alone on the edge of a dormant field of tall grass
A red bellied woodpecker hanging on the feeder
Give food to the birds, you will then be surrounded by the wings of love, you will be encompassed by the joys of little silent hearts!
Mehmet Murat Ildan
a tufted titmouse holds a seed
Robins wintering in an old apple orchard
I caught a glimpse of happiness, and saw it was a bird on a branch, fixing to take wing.
Richard Peck
Crows chatting and cawing in the treetops
The perfection of an empty nest
I spent my last week in Michigan (for a few months) feeling sad that I had to leave. I had some major technical problems this week, but I still wanted to share some of the pictures I took at home and in my neighborhood before I left for Miami.
Hope you had a wonderful week. Thank you for being here.