We cross this bridge every day driving to school. It is a beautiful view any day you cross it, any season. Grays Bay is on the right, and the main lake is on the left. The bridge crosses to a narrow strip of land, where there is barely room for the two lane road to wind through the trees.
Many days the lake looks very different on each side of the bridge. The bay could be smooth, while the main lake shows the currents of the wind. The bay could be showing slight waves, while there are white caps just 30 yards away. Or the bay could be frozen, while the main lake is still open.
On the particular day I snapped this picture, each side looked the same. That is, we couldn’t see any water on either side because the fog was so thick. It was a little eery, as there are very few foggy days on this particular bay. We knew the fog was temporary, that we would see our lake and the beautiful views again. We also understood that we couldn’t see everything that we normally see. Yet this fog was very, very real and I had to drive very carefully and focus on what was directly in front of me in order to get to school safely. I had to understand that anything in the periphery was almost certainly a skewed view.
Growing up near the swamps of Louisiana, I am no stranger to fog. They even have road signs that remind you that visibility is limited in the fog. But the sun also shines hot and bright down there and the fog rarely lasts.
Several years ago, we rented a house on an island off the coast of Maine and the fog set in for days. Having never experienced this, I thought I would go crazy. We literally hired a boat to take us to the mainland so we could drive inland for the day, and experience clear vision.
My life has been a bit foggy lately and I really wish I could hire someone to take me out of it. To remind me of the clarity that I have worked so hard to achieve. So that I can see everything as it is, rather than through the distorting haze of this heavy wet fog.