The Fog - The Sun - The Moon - The Lake

“The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.” ~ Carl Sandburg

Today was the 4th day since setting the clocks back and I am just loving getting out an hour or so earlier for my morning walk. Monday I was out the door by 5:45, although I was aiming for 5:30, and 6:00 on Tuesday and today. It starts to get light about 30 minutes before sunrise and gets light fairly fast. Sunrise is about 6:20 now, but of course that changes by a few minutes every day. I can’t quite explain why I like being out early, but there’s just something about being up and awake and outside – getting a jump on my day I guess? No, that’s not it. It’s as if I have the whole world to myself. I love the quietness and stillness and peacefulness. This “me” time sustains me throughout my day and if I don’t have any other quiet times or solitude that day, that’s ok, because at least I had this early morning. It’s almost like I’m carrying a special secret with me all day which comes to the foreground of my thoughts now and then, whispering to me, “remember this?” as those visions from my morning walk appear as a slide show in my mind. This always makes me smile.

I know that there are a lot of people who are up early, getting ready for work and I know I am fortunate to be able to work from my home. And although 5:45 seems early now, it really is not all that unusual for anyone to be up at that point. Being up and out at 4:45 in July and August is a different story all together, I think. Nice. I felt as if I had more hours in my day than other people.

On Monday, I sat on the stonewall at the top of my driveway near the mailboxes to finish my coffee. Just as I started out from there, my neighbor appeared and so I had the pleasure of walking with my him the 7/10’s of a mile or so to the end of our street where we parted ways; he, going left up the street on his usual route and I, going into the park and continuing down to the lake there. As we approached the end of our road, you could see the moon, looking absolutely huge, as it was setting into the lake straight ahead of us. How nice to see the sun rising behind me in the east, while watching the moon setting in the west. Just stunning. And this full moon – going to bed now in the morning - was rising last night. I watched it through my kitchen sliders – stepping out momentarily onto the deck to get a clearer view. Spectacular! Big and orange on the rise, bright and white on setting. Grand entrance – big finish – a great show all around, and no charge! I wonder how many people looked at the same thing but didn’t actually see it. Too busy with the stuff of their lives, too stressed out to care, perhaps. And then I wonder how many people saw it as I did and were gazing up at it at the same time as I with a feeling of deep appreciation and awe. Those people, for whom something like this really speaks, well – those people are my tribe. And although I don’t know any of them, I know they are out there. The thought of this makes me smile.

Tuesday morning dawned clear with blue skies turning a deeper blue as the sun rose. Up top, on the road now walking northwest, more or less, I look back to the east and I see the glow of the sun’s rays – not the actual sun yet - through the trees as it nears the horizon, almost official now. Drum roll please. There it is, rising fast and washing out the orange blaze to a bright yellow. The show put on just prior to sunrise sometimes upstages the actual main event, which is the case this morning. With the leaves gone from the trees now, the contrast between the dark silhouetted trees in the foreground, with the sky on fire behind them, is quite a sight. I stand and watch for a minute.

Continuing on down the road, I am approaching the spot with the view, to the right, of the valley and hills where often times the fog lays low, thick and heavy. When I’m just about there I notice what appears to be smoke straight ahead about 3/10’s of a mile up the road. Although the road is straight and level, for all intent and purposes, there is an ever so slight incline from my mail box to the midway point down the road, about 4/10’s of a mile. Then a very slight downgrade from there to the end. You can’t notice it at all when walking it. There is no extra effort required when walking. It is only noticeable from a visual standpoint. When walking it you can see the “high” point from way back as the road dips so slightly beyond it so that anything standing at that very point – like a dog crossing the street right there – appears to be on a horizon. You can’t see the actual road beyond that point although you can still see the homes on either side. I only mention this, and try ever so inadequately to describe it, because it was a tenth of a mile or so beyond this horizon high point in the road that appeared to be where there was a heavy smoke in the road. And although I could see it some 3-4/10ths a mile ahead, I couldn’t quite make out totally what or where it was from. Could it be a downdraft from someone’s chimney? Is someone burning something in a barrel in their backyard? Is a house on fire? I can’t tell. Guess I’ll just have to wait a few minutes until I am there.

It was just at that point when I got to my view of the valley heavy with fog. I looked behind me down the road from where I walked, still clear as a bell and blue sky. There was a slight breeze and the smoke ahead seemed to be moving down the road toward me. The fog in the valley seemed to be lifting a bit and actually moving also in my direction. As I approached the halfway horizon mark I realize that the smoke ahead of me is not smoke at all. It is fog. And as I turn again to look behind me, the clear sky is fading and I am almost totally engulfed by fog that is all around me now. I have never seen the fog appear so quickly, indeed “on little cat feet,” so quiet, quick and stealth. If I were in a ship, I’d be lost at sea at this point. I look straight up and I can see the blue sky, just barely, through the fog. I know it will lift and burn away, but how strange this is. If the people in the homes ahead of me wake and look out their window through sleepy eyes, they will be deceived into thinking it is a gray overcast day. But it is not!

Well I continue on, enjoying the fog which has a beauty all its own. Down on the shore of the lake now I’m held captive by the sight. The fog is patchy and although it is thick in places it is also wispy. Houses across the shore appear and disappear in the fog. The near full moon suddenly appears through the fog, low on the lake getting ready to set. Oh, how magnificent and almost mystical, really. And, although I can't see them, I hear the voices of the Uconn Crew team that practices on the lake nearly every morning. For college students (and by that I really mean, young people, because I know it’s extra hard for them to do this early rising thing) to be up before 6AM to catch their shuttle and to be out on the lake by 6 – well you gotta know how dedicated they are. I so admire that! Here they come out of the fog, what a sight. There are three or four, 8-man scuttles out there with 2 small motor boats with their coaches, which scoot along with them calling out instructions through a bull horn. I often see them out there but it is a special treat today due to the effect the fog plays on all of this. Surreal.

As I walk back through the park toward the road I wave to the man in the Uconn shuttle bus. He is the driver who sits and reads a book, glancing up now and then at the lake, as he waits for the team to finish. It is only a 10 minute drive to the Uconn campus in Storrs. He is the same driver as last year and the year before. He is probably thinking, “Oh my god, that lady is still walking her dog down here to the lake!” He waves back and smiles.

As I continue east toward the road, I look back for one more view of the lake, the moon and the fog. The sun is bright now. I think the fog is ready to move on.