Fog in the Forest – A Blessing

December 15, 2014 by Leave a Comment
Pine Forest in Shroud

Pine Forest in Shroud © 2014 Bo Mackison

Nothing stands in isolation.
Experiences, stories, a life time of truths.

Traveling in a forest in fog. Water droplets suspended in the atmosphere, my vision
obscured as I peer fiercely through the mist. To no avail. Not a glimmer or a ghost.

Moisture permeates the dried, the desiccated. Ragged and spent.

A pulpy mix of leaf litter, feathers, tiny skeletons and detritus.
Life and death and the in-between takes on many forms.

A shudder up my spine, bone to bone. And I recall
my grandmother’s shivery words under similar circumstances

“Someone walkin’ over my grave.” She’d shake her head, eyes closed,
and chew her cracked lip. Back away from trouble.

I hold out my bare hands in supplication. Help me.
The trees shiver in winter’s wind.

Water drops, sanctified in the sodden oak leaves,
sprinkle upon my bare head and I continue my passage through.

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Foggy Walk

November 2, 2013 by 4 Comments
IMG_5458

Foggy Walk

It is not the clear-sighted who rule the world. Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm fog. ~ Joseph Conrad

I’ve been walking in a blessed, warm fog, thanks to a persistent weather pattern. But there is beauty wherever I look, and gratefulness for the opportunity to walk in this world, foggy or not.

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Beauty in an Autumn Fog

October 31, 2013 by 4 Comments
Autumn Fog

Autumn Fog © 2013 Bo Mackison

“In nature, everything has a job. The job of the fog is to beautify further the existing beauties!” ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

I have been waiting for the sun to brighten the landscapes in the Madison area.

I had a list of places I wanted to visit during Wisconsin’s beautiful autumn. I waited and waited. And those magical sun-filled days did not appear. I held on so tightly to the idea of “need sun for this explore” and eventually I had to cross several places off my list – places that close for the season on October 31st.

Yesterday I finally took a long look at the calendar, and realized I was not getting a single one of all those October days back. True, it’s been a busy, eventful month, but there were days when I changed plans due to weather, thinking I could fit a visit in when the weather was more suitable. Yesterday, I realized there were only two days left in October, and I had not visited many of the places I usually visit to soak in the autumn beauty.

It was foggy, a bit misty. But I pulled out my winter coat, waterproof and warm, and went for a walk in a nearby park. The fog was moody, thick in some places on the trail, but it offered an interesting color intensity that I would likely have missed if I were walking in bright sunlight. In the gray mist, the colors that do show through are mystical and mesmerizing. An unexpected gift.

Today it is no longer foggy. The rain has washed the foggy blanket away. Perhaps today is a good enough day to explore a rainy autumn day.

~~~

Disclosure: There are several good reasons why I pack up and head to Arizona for the dark seasons of the year. I do love Arizona’s stark beauty fiercely. I also love her sunshine., especially since I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, and the lack of sun plays havoc with my biological chemistry. I delayed my travels this year, for the very best of reasons, and decided to play it smart once I noticed the effects the diminishing sunlight had on my moods and energy levels. I have a thing about taking medications, but there is a time when it is the right call. The treatment appears to be helping, hence the photos of the park in yesterday’s fog.

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Fog Across the Water

August 27, 2013 by 7 Comments
Redwood National Park -- From West Entrance to Pacific Coast

Crashing Waves ©2013 Bo Mackison

One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, “We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.
~ Ray Bradbury, The Fog Horn

This is the Pacific in fog.
It was cold when I walked the shore.
The waves were menacing, thrashing about.

A sign on the beach warned of sneaker waves
and the death toll tallied, victims unaware of the power of surf.
There was nothing to see in the beyond.

Fog settled low. I stood
watching the shore birds fight over specks of dinner.

The ranger at Redwoods shrugged when I said
I liked the feel of the fog, like a shroud.

“It’s always like this. Might be clearer than usual.
Never see sunlight on this beach.
Come back, the fog will be here.”

Tide was rolling in, and the motel was 50 miles south.
I decided there’d be tomorrow for more fog watching.

The next morning the skies were a startling deep blue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  In August, I stood on the shore of the Pacific Ocean.

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Meditation – Walking Fern Canyon in Coastal Fog

August 26, 2013 by 7 Comments
Coastal Fog

Coastal Fog ©2103 Bo Mackison

“In nature, everything has a job. The job of the fog is to beautify further the existing beauties!” ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

In fog. I am standing near swirling waters
gushing through Fern Canyon
towards the Pacific Ocean.

The creek’s container
Cliffs fifty feet high,
The creek’s container,
dressed in dripping ferns.

Sword ferns, five finger ferns.
The creek winds under fallen redwood trees,
twists along rock formations. Bubbling.

I walk east,
fording the creek on narrow wood planks.
Wet seeps through my hiking shoes,
The planks sag in the middle and frothy creek water
gushing over make-shift bridges.

My eyes follow the cliffs’ ascent,
atop there are skinny trees — not redwoods,
those giants grow further inland
— here are the skinny trees. In the fog. In swirls of dense ocean
these tree trunks gleam dark and wet.

Primeval. The scent of moist
and deep and old. An ancient call.

In Fern Canyon
the creek is the glory, the cliffs and the ferns
dripping, slurping, singing with water,
gushing life, this, nature’s glory.

Connecting with the earth and her waters.
Her message.
Take care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  “I believe nature offers opportunities for connection, the arts offer opportunities for self-expression, and life offers continual opportunity for growth and self-discovery.”

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