Posts tagged “fog

Romancing the snow

The romance of winter -

And the deep snow -

Never fail to surprise and please

Sunrise dog

When wrapped up in

A sky of pink tissue

And a bow of dreamy fog.

Romance 2

For more dreamy shots, please visit: Skywatch.


Mist, rising

The pink glow of the early setting winter sun

Enticed us outside to explore

The wonders just beyond the horizon.

Viewing the mist

It was a miracle of trees that

Seemed to float in the rising mist –

Mist rising 2

A wonder of purple and gold

Painting the fog with magic.

Mist rising copy

For more miracles, please visit: Skywatch.


Mist-ical magic

With no warning, the temperatures fell

And the fog with it.

Wonderful golden fog,

Each particle of the air alive

And singing with colour and life.

For more magic, please visit: Skywatch.


Of mist and rocks

At dawn, the old stone church  across the lake bathes in golden light –

Amazing to think that 800 years ago, someone looked at a pile of rocks

And saw how they could be transformed into something so much greater than the sum of their parts.

And as the sun sets,

Don’t ask what the meaning of the birdsong or the setting sun is,

Just enjoy the beauty and let them be.

For more loveliness, please visit: Skywatch.


Delicious autumn

I love autumn and the autumn skies,

Especially the fireworks autumn puts on in the early mornings.

I’m invigorated by the sky’s soft blush,

The flamboyant colours of the leaves,

The dramatic harmony of sky and trees and water.

George Eliot put it so well when she wrote,

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

For more deliciousness, please visit: Skywatch.


The miracle

It’s early. Very early.

The fog hangs in soft veils as I sneak outside, camera in hand.

Suddenly, a screech rips the sky in two to reveal

A single heron soaring in the blue dawn.

He is joined by two more  – a feast for tired eyes.

They whirl, they dance, they leave me breathless

And speechless

Until they fade into the happily ever after

Of a new day.

For more miracles, please visit: Our World.


Revelation

Imagine, if you will, the stillness of

The very early morning – the world

Wrapped tightly in sleep and fog.

Suddenly, the mist is pierced

By magical fingers of light.

An illumination of world and soul -

Where the light does not reveal anything,

But is itself the revelation.

For more heavenly revelations, please visit: Skywatch.


Winter gold

The snow and ice have melted away. The sun is shining

And magical light is flooding our senses.

But – before it’s too late – I want to show you the gold of winter;

The gold that goes unnoticed in autumn’s burnished blaze

And spring’s happy song.

Now, with the sun warming my face,

It’s easy to look back and enjoy the perfection of winter gold.

“I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.” – Rimbaud

For more golden skies, please visit: Skywatch!


Springter

Springter is that time of year when spring and winter compete to see who is going to rule the weather.

One day the sun is shining and spring is shaking loose with a rainbow of melting snow.

The next day, winter is back with a vengeance – fresh snow and ice make art out last autumn’s leaves

Still clinging to the trees in a display of perseverance.

A bud tries to unfurl but is caught there between seed and flower

Between spring and winter

Between hope and promise.

To get away from my icy pictures, please visit: My World!

(Don’t know about you – but I think this pretty much describes middle age too.)


The poetry of flight


A glorious November day with the sun shining just so,

Shedding golden pools of light on trees

As birds took off – into a purple veil of fog.

Poetry in motion.

I leave no trace of wings in the air, but I am glad I have had my flight.
– Rabindranath Tagore

For more amazing skies, please visit: Skywatch!


Through the fence

The last day of 2010 dawned bright and glorious.

Sneaking a peek through a white wooden fence, I catch a sight of golden trees framed in the lilac shadows of the fence.

Rounding the corner, I gasp in admiration as the snow unfurls like a purple rug

And flaming trees float golden under a peaceful sky.

Remember to click the photos to enlarge them!

For more glory, please visit: Skywatch.


Fog in my gloves

Early morning.

The sky and snow are blue with cold

Until the sun rises

Tinging the soft underbellies of the popcorn clouds

With pink sugar.

The kids pile into overalls and boots

And gloves and hats and scarves

And kids and dog and I spill out

Into the gorgeous new day

To greet the thick fog rising like a veil

Above the welcoming iced over lake.

It’s cold. Very cold.

“I’ve got fog in my gloves!” my youngest shouts.

“Let’s go home.”

And enjoy the sensation and memory of that fog.

Fog in our gloves.

(You can click the photos to make them bigger.)

For more cool skies, go to: Skywatch!


Wish you were here!

mist_0066

Sunday  morning. A wet mist hangs like damp washing over the countryside. It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s unpleasant. And no – the photos aren’t out of focus. The weather is.

ducks_mist_0065

As that old cliché goes: it’s good weather for ducks. Their orange feet are the only flashes of colour to cheer up the day.

What a shame that you aren’t here to share it!

Anyway, if you want to escape our candy floss mist, then head on over to the third riveting edition of Strange Shores: a blog carnival written by ex-pats. It’ll leave you shaken, and quite possible, stirred.


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