Fog

The fog here is amazing.

I never really thought that I would refer to fog as amazing, or beautiful at that. There was one instance when I was driving home from the Cities and most of the drive was after dark, and there was this gorgeous fog in the valleys along the side of I-94. It was almost as if I could touch it if I would have been out there, as if someone had just taken it out of a basket and placed it where it was supposed to be. It was a thick, tangible fog that settled in the pockets of the hills of northern Wisconsin, creating a magical feel on an ordinary drive.

My travels in Suwanee, Georgia have now been graced with a bit of magic as well, just as the sun comes up each morning. There are patches of fog that seem to hang in the air, masking the elevated tree line and making it appear as a painting, dusty and shadowed with a hint of gold as the sun colors each branch that morning. I noticed this same fog slowly brushing the wild flowers and autumn grass of a field, each piece of this nature changing from green to red to gold as the morning wakes.

It's things like this that make a really long drive in really bad traffic at 7:30 a.m. really... fulfilling. It's as if I've been placed in that car, in that exact spot, just to notice the fog of the morning. And isn't it amazing that we can believe that our God does things like that, just to slow us down every once in a while...?

For fog I am thankful.