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Fog | Fog

annette-talbert's picture
Nov.09.2012
Fog
Awoke to silence, a room filled with dim light. I open the front door and I step into nature's cool embrace, damp fingers of fog wrap around my face. Surrounded by white, completely blind, I follow the sound of your voice. Mind  filled with the fog of indecision, a clear path forward suddenly...
annette-talbert's picture
Mar.29.2012
The fog was thick and gray,like my thoughts. So far I had been able to push the darkness aside,to carry on, despite the chaos. The fog reminded me that being wrapped up inside the problemscreated by others could cause me to miss the beauty hidden behind the clouds. As I sat at a traffic light I saw...
michael-seidel's picture
Dec.05.2011
Chinook. El nino. La Nina. Chattanooga choo choo. These are meteorlogical terms for recurring weather phenomena. Say them and people have immediate memories and understanding of what they are. Like my friend, Kevin said, "You know how you hear something and you know what it is without knowing what...
rina-macasaet's picture
Dec.04.2011
Fog
Where I live, waking up to fog is a rarity.  It almost never fogs in Manila.  Smog yes, but hardly ever fog. It started to rain continuously over the weekend and the temperature dropped to a point that I felt chilly at dawn today. My daughter called out, “Mom!  Take a look at the fog...
michael-seidel's picture
Dec.02.2011
It's almost 9 AM. The sun has burned off the morning's icy fog. Grass made white and solid by a hard frost and temperatures in the upper twenties are recovering their green blades. Another meeting has ended. This was an organization call, arranged this morning.  A small subset of a larger team...
michael-seidel's picture
Nov.29.2011
Fog
Fog mesmerizes me. Maybe Carl Sandburg's poem started it when I first heard it in elementary school. We rarely had fog in Pennsylvania often that I remember but down in southern West Virginia, you needed to master fog to drive the country roads and survive. Still, other than thinking about how...
louise-young's picture
Oct.10.2011
  There is no horizon.  The surface of the big lake is smooth, glassy, gray.  As it slides away from shore it becomes less defined, amorphous, as if the two matrices that enclose it -- air and water -- are bleeding into each other.  Overhead, the sky is the identical iron gray...
michelle-richmond's picture
Aug.23.2010
Some time ago, I began building an interactive map of THE YEAR OF FOG, so that readers can follow Abby through the streets of San Francisco as she searches for Emma. The map contains images, text from the novel, and personal reflections on places that hold a special meaning for me. Now, I'm looking...
christine-bottaro's picture
Aug.08.2010
It's high noon and I'm about up to here with vampire weather.  We throw aside the morning paper and head for the door, eyes fixed on points east sure to be frying in hot sunshine.  I want to throw a shadow, not belong to the cast of Dark Shadows (ancient vampire soap opera from the 70s).  ...
lisa-jensen's picture
Aug.03.2010
As I write this, Santa Cruz is choking in the deathgrip of a particularly noxious bout of morning and evening coastal fog. It's our typical June Gloom—except it's now August. It's hard to spring out of bed in the morning when there's no sun, especially in summer, when life is supposed to be one...