Fog. “Do you think they’re okay?”
I have been writing.
I have been persevering on my novel. Last week, I averaged 323 words a day. Counting 6 days as a workweek.
Not that great but a teensy momentum starting with my book and though I’m devoting most of my writing time to that effort —
I’d like to blog at least once a week.
If there is something I can’t wipe out of my mind — that will be the post.
This week, it’s fog.
We travelled down to the Georgia coast around New Years. We did this a couple of years ago and it was a blustery, cold, typical late December, early January at the beach.
This December 29th it was so warm we headed to the beach in expectation of baring skin. I hadn’t brought a bathing suit but the boys did. They hauled fishing gear from our house to the sand on bikes. On my bike, I toted my chair and something to keep me hydrated.
Notice the water and sky in the above goofy selfie of me.
About a half hour after this photo, the sky clouded. And across the water came a wall.
Of fog.
See how it’s starting to filter down to the beach. The seagulls seem pretty relaxed.
Honestly, I was relaxed due to proper hydration but the fog thing was — well getting pretty foggy.
As my husband and I walked down the beach, the fog began to grow thicker and thicker.
“I know the pier is there somewhere.”
We’d been walking awhile and still couldn’t see the pier. Like most piers into the Atlantic, it’s quite large. One can’t just disappear without a Catagory 5 hurricane or world-ending visit by aliens.
Or so you would think.
Like where did it go?
We found it.
People in San Francisco are used to blue sky then Londontown. I remember baseball and football games at Candlestick where the players disappeared and play halted.
But to have my warm, sunny day at beach cataclysmically altered?
It was cool.
You know the coolest part?
The horns.
Savannah is a mega port. Tons of ginormous cargo ships ingress and egress the docks via the Savannah River off the Atlantic. We saw one or two mega ships head out. When the fog came . . .
We heard them.
BWAAAAAAH. Silence. Gray. Fog. BWAAAAAAH. Silence. Gray. Fog. BWAAAAAAH.
“Like are they okay?” I asked.
It was spooky to think them barrelling through the water blind. Of course I know they weren’t blind with all the high tech gadgets these days but.
After they all had a good laugh at my expense asking if those floating landmasses “were okay?”–
Someone said, “They maybe okay, but some little boat out there that doesn’t see them is not.”
The huge ships. The dense fog. The sound of the horns.
I liked it. It had an air of danger, mystery. Dampness. And as one who usually hates dampness, in this senario, it worked.
Utterly unexpected.
Here’s to a year of unexpected good things.
Things emerging out of the fog or times I’m plowing blind into the fog.
Here’s to a good week. xo
Thoughts on fog? Or foggy thoughts?
