Today I think fog is beautiful. That sounds stupid. But it was all foggy outside when I woke up this morning, and there is nothing quite like the feeling that brings on. I live out in the country, surrounded by fields of corn. When the fog rolls in it seems as if our house is the only thing that has ever existed. If I were to walk out my front door and into the white wall, It would be like walking off the edge of the earth.
It makes the house feel like it’s powerful. When I’m walking around in my pajamas I feel more important. Like my presense is more significant. It’s all so subtle, but that’s what the fog does.
I read a short story by Stephen King the other day titled “The Mist.” All Stephen King is bone chilling, but this one sat close to home. The story had scary creatures emerging from the fog – people being killed left and right. The feeling that stuck with me was the idea that anything could come out of the mist and I wouldn’t know until it was too late to stop it. Fog seems magical, but it also seems dangerous. I think it is beautiful that God made things with that combination. The fog can make you feel alone and powerful, but it can take away your sight. It can’t be controlled. It’s beautiful. Dangerous, but beautiful.