There, at the tip of the Monterey Peninsula, the fog would roll in at dawn then creep thickly through the seaside forests to infiltrate the town, muffling everything in cool white cotton. I remember walking to summer school through the damp, sweet, heavy mist and feeling like I had a secret, like the fog wrapping itself around me held some mystery that only I could see. Sounds were muffled, and even the squirrels and jays scuffling through the fallen pine-needles and flitting through the trees by the road seemed far away.
At the summer school I'd buy an extra big peanut butter cookie, sit on a bench and watch the ghostly figures of other children as I munched away. To this day, the taste of peanut butter cookies reminds me of those foggy mornings of my childhood. And fog itself still makes me feel safe, mysterious and warm.
6 comments:
I couldn´t agree more with Lynda, a fantastic piecure of THE girl with her langamma´s old house in the background. The writing, as always, is both enjoyable and informative.
Spectacular photo.
I'm assuming the anonymous comment came from my mother, Ásthildur, who grew up in the peak-roofed house behind Valentína, who is THE girl. Lang-amma translates literally as "long-grandma," a great-grandmother.
Excellent post and *beautiful* photo Maria!!
That is a GORGEOUS photo!
it is a great photo, i guess digital photography tastes much different than 35 mm photography but it has its own beauty as in this picture. and about the fog, i remember being on a ship passing the bosphorus when suddenly the fog had surrounded us, forcing the ship to stop in the middle of nothing. and i remember the fog making someone feel safe from a movie called Regard of Ulysess by
Angelopolous. The joy in a city where fog blinds the sniper and lets thousands out to the streets, in Sarajevo, during the war.
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