Tuesday, October 16, 2007

fog

By seven, I’m done. I put away lecture notes and look outside. Not light yet. When does the sun rise on a foggy, late October morning?

Outside, the workmen are at it. Cars throw beams of light, passing quickly. Madison goes to work early.


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I don’t want to go to my office just yet. I head toward Picnic Point for a walk on this wet day. How do you photograph fog and a vague feel of drizzle?

The lakes are dusty gray. Everything about this strip of park space is muted, colorless. Understandably.


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Ducks move across the water. Great numbers of them. Passing each other, searching for something. What?

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Dripping moss, dark branches. Where am I? Madison, right?


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A boat. A faint presence of color. It spins in a circle. Nobody's on board. A duck swims by.


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Gray portends November days. Once the chill sets in, we’ll be there. For now, the cloud cover is protective. It's not really cold. Only wet. And gray.


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