Tag Archives: fog

In a Tunnel

I should have known–my student meteorologist this morning posted foggy and cool (while the sun was shining) in spite of the protests of his classmates. With a heat advisory posted on the weather app, everyone was expecting hot and sunny with record March temperatures, not a thick marine layer. But sure enough, by about 11:30 this morning, that pesky blanket of gray was wafting onto the playground. By the time I left school after 3, the coast was pretty much socked in the fog.

But the tides are low this week during my walking time, and walking on the beach is always better than walking around the neighborhood, so I pulled on my sweatshirt and headed into those very low clouds.

Dense fog is a lot like walking into a tunnel. Peripheral vision is limited, you can only see what is immediately before you. I found myself trusting the muscle memory of my feet and legs rather than depending on landmarks to find my way. In some ways it made distance fade away as I was forced to stay in the present rather than anticipate what lay ahead. Before I knew it miles passed.

Along the way back I noticed pelicans. Often they fly overhead, dipping and diving, surfing the waves. But today they were hanging out near the shore…just floating in the shallows. Sometimes lifting into flight just as I pulled my phone from my pocket to take a photo. Were they also experiencing the tunnel effect? Seeing the ocean differently through the thick gray damp of fog?

I enjoyed my tunnel view this afternoon, staying present and available to the shrouded beauty right in front of me. I soaked in the cool damp air, breathing in the sea and exhaling the worries about the world as my feet were treated to nature’s spa treatment–a cool salt water rinse. A perfect way to end my work day.

Seeking Clarity

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Sometimes I feel like I can only see the world through smudged glasses, details obscured or invented to serve someone’s agenda rather than the greater good. Like walking in dense fog, you can only see what is immediately in front of you rather than any insights the big picture offers.

The classroom can be like that too. Vision blurred by the marine layer created by the chemistry in the room. It’s too easy to lose focus and only see the largest obstacles rather than picking out the beauty in the diversity of details that appear when you are able to shine light on them.

It’s report card time in my school district, a time that forces me to see past the marine layer as I consider the strengths and growth of each child in the room. It’s a reminder to look and listen carefully, to find the spaces and places where the sun turns the sky from gray and colorless to vibrant and so blue that possibilities are endless.

Today we decided to drive north to walk a beach we love, but don’t get to too often. We braved some crazy traffic (a parade was taking place a block off the main road, causing gridlock) as we hoped the heavy fog would burn off by the time we arrived at the beach.

It was noon when we arrived, later than we planned for. The sky was blue and bright with sun at the parking area. As we walked toward the beach, we walked into the fog. It was warmish (high 60s) and the tide was low. As we walked south along the shore, we explored the tide pools exposed by the low tide. Sea anemones were abundant. I watched hermit crabs in their adopted shells skitter in the shallows. We could feel the damp on our faces as we walked, and the beach ahead of us disappeared. Landmarks that tell us how far we’ve gone and how much farther we have to go disappear, changing the landscape, making the familiar unfamiliar.

Near the end of the stretch of beach we walked, the sun prevailed and we stopped to watch surfers, seemingly too close to the cliffs, ride waves and duck into the brilliant translucent tubes of water. We headed back, finding the fog again…a little less dense this time. At one point I noticed the beach split between the fog and sun.

Can I read the sky like others read the palms of hands or the remains of tea leaves? Does this mean that clarity is right in front of me? Or does it mean that I need to keep wading through the fog, wiping away those smudges, shining light into dark spaces until it becomes second nature and I know clarity when I see it?

Beach Re-Encountered: NPM22 Day 27

Fog: SOLC #20

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I walked into a cloud, experiencing it now from the inside out. Water drops too small to see kiss my cheeks as they swirl and dance all around me. My vision is soft-edged, everything ahead of me in vignette. Cocooned in light as the sun’s rays, wrapped in cotton balls, bounce and reflect. The world feels close and small in the cloud. I can’t see too far ahead or too far behind, I’m forced into the here and now, noticing what is right here.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the cloud lifts and opens wide, like a deep breathe and the blue appears. The world expands and the view shifts. I walk out of the fog.

Change in View: #writeout

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I walked out of school with the sun shining brightly on my shoulders. I peeled my lightweight jacket off before getting into the car to head down the hill toward the beach for my after school walk.

In the less than two miles from school to the beach, the sun dimmed, shuttered by a thick veil of fog. Palm trees became shadowy pillars as I steered toward the beach parking lot. As I walked down the long steep ramp to the sandy beach, it was like walking into another world. Colors were swallowed by the damp blanket, the view disappeared, I could see only 20 or 30 yards in front of me.

My mind filled with stories, the stuff of Halloween and horror movies. What was around the corner? What evil might that shadowy figure in front of me bring? What about the sea itself, was the tide actually as low as I expected?

Luckily, my feet know this beach. They followed the path worn by my frequent walks, recognizing the curve of the beach, the squish of the sand under my soles. Familiar birds whistled hello, giant kelp caressed my toes and a huge piece of bull kelp appeared from the shadows.

As I neared the end of my walk, a crowd of children appeared from the mist. And with them, the bubble man, the pied piper of the beach, casting a spell with his magic wand. The thick mist didn’t dampen their spirits, instead the dampness of the air helped them catch bubbles–holding them in their hands and allowing them to slip into the bubble tunnels the bubble man created.

Stories continue to swirl, wrapping me in their damp, shadowy chapters. My imagination is already hard at work, making connections, creating movies in my mind. I can only hope they don’t become the stuff of nightmares as I drift off to sleep.