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Posts Tagged ‘fog’

I have never been able to take a credible photo of the moon.  This little cell phone camera doesn’t have the capacity (or maybe I don’t know what I’m doing?).

But one silvery night when the fog lay in low Virginia hollows and there was a shimmer on surfaces left wet from a creeping mist, I had to try again.

Deck in Moonlight 3

Deck in Moonlight 4

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My BigFoot “Expert Doctor” is in Charlottesville, Virginia.

It’s about an hour and a half drive over the legendary Afton Mountain.

And even on a clear day you can be confronted with fog.

There are lights embedded in the roadway but it still feels treacherous.

And it may not actually be fog, but the signs say so.  Last time we went “over the hill” we could see a low lying cloud enshrouding the roadway, and then drove right into it.

What a thrill it is to creep along and wonder how bad it could get and would we careen over the edge?

Can you tell I am a worrier?

We have survived the winter with several visits over Afton Mountain and actually this was the first time to experience fog.

From Virginia Living:  “The drop-dead gorgeous scenery disappears when clouds blanket the mountain. Fog and ice make for a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. VDOT (Virginia Department of Transportation) has addressed safety by installing expensive airport runway lights along the 64 roadway to guide motorists…”

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The Barn Across the Hill

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Foggy Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia

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The Sun Rises

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Fencing Off the Fog was a photo-post I did earlier this month.  Friends urged me to write a poem to go with it, and so I have.   With fog drifting into the forests and hollows of this part of Virginia, I often think of the suffering soldiers in the Civil War.  I have placed the photo at the end of the poem.

FENCING OFF THE FOG

There is a forest beside my Southern home,

and a heavy fog is slinking in.

I imagine ghostly images

of  weary soldiers

shrouded in that  gossamer film; 

  and a sea of boy-bodies

 who might only be sleeping

amid tattered desolation and bleeding.

 They were young sons-of-the-south

turned warriors

 marching forward without pause

screaming the Rebel yell, 

not yet knowing it was a Lost Cause.

I need to fence off the fog

until my imagination turns

to the outcome of a more perfect union, 

turning from that waste of war

to sunshine,

in the southern reverie of mint juleps, 

magnolia blossoms

and  peace and love.

I need to fence off the fog.

 

Fencing Off the Fog

Fencing Off the Fog

 

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