This morning’s fog produced gorgeous scenery.
When I woke up, this morning, I noticed a thick fog that had settled upon the farm’s fields & trees. Immediately, I slipped on shoes and dashed out to take some pictures of the landscape, which seemed eerily foreign, uncanny. Like some kind of aura obscured and protected magical beings that remained just out of sight.
Skeletal trees and shrubs create patterns in the mists.
While some might find this kind of weather dreary, I instead like to soak in the beauty, smell the petrichor, & enjoy the quiet solitude. My thoughts often run deep into the well of consciousness & there’s just something about fog that I find calming, soothing.
Even these dessicated hydrangea panicles take on a different kind of beauty.
The farm’s grounds fascinate me, if you couldn’t already tell. I love the way it has its own personality, responding to weather with kaleidoscopic shapes and colors. It’s ever-changing, mutable, adapting to precipitation with varying moods. There’s a poignant feeling in looking at this kind of scenery.
Here, I’m reminded of Burton’s “Sleepy Hollow.”
A day like this makes me feel like I’m on a set for a Tim Burton movie like Sleepy Hollow or the opening of Dark Shadows. And I’m drawn to that aesthetic. Maybe that’s the Romantic in me, tramping through the fields & in mud to feel close to the Earth.
Here. evergreens pierce the fog, creating almost a feathery lace.
And I love trees. I know I’ve written about this before, but there’s something reassuring in seeing tall, mature, gnarled trees on the land. Shaggy, cracked, or papery bark on trunks. Their age connects them to the primeval, so I figure it must trigger something in my collective unconscious, something mythical. They take on personalities. I like the tall ones, like Treebeard, keeping watch for orcs.
Another view of the field, shrouded in mist.
These are the days when spring has beauty. I don’t mind the April showers that bring May flowers, which is probably why I love New England so much. My mother use to have me hunt for natural plunder–acorns, dried flowers, moss, lichen, milk pods, fern fronds. She would make arrangements on burlap, turned into hanging art in the house. Maybe I’ll do that, too, someday.
Beautiful Norway spruce, with the orchard behind.
Thus, when I see the fog descend, like a cloud dropping down to greet me, I make it a point to go outside and capture the beauty to share with others. Photography has become another creative outlet for me, when I’m not yet allowed to start the planting season.
Another view of the farm’s yard.