When the Fog Rolls Away

Remember yesterday's oppressive fog? Mother went to town and told me later that only we on the mountain were in the fog. Everything else was clear and beautiful. Eventually, the fog dissipated.

Toward sunset, the light on the hills was rather red.

The fog settles into puddles, down in the wrinkles of the hills.

The trees up here have been so abused by ice and wind. In winter, all their wounds are evident. All their healings too.

I don't know how a scene can be so active and so quiet, simultaneously.

Wisps of cloud link the mountainous bank above with the liquid pools beneath.

If it weren't for the criss-cross of trees and the piles of clouds, you could see Lake Jocassee in the distance, shining like a pool of mercury in the setting sun.