Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Midwinter Fog

We awoke to a veiled world, a world transformed by the silvery cloak of a midwinter fog that had wrapped itself around us in the silence of the dawn. Almost theatrical, as if handknit for sheer effect, it seemed but an ingenious set design crafted to hide life’s more ephemeral players; those rarely seen in sunlight, but much too timid for the dark. Pointillistic halos encircled the streetlamps, creating unblinking golden eyes that stared out in straightlined, ironbacked attention all the way up the slate grey hill. The old trees, with their bare black bones so completely enshrouded, found they had no more need of the children, but could now play hide and seek with one another instead, counting to one hundred in arcane, deep-voiced words of their own. Through the magic gauze of the morning, the big white dog moved about the garden like a Dickensian spectre, casting no shadow, making no sound, as he made his way through the mist, up the stairs and back inside the cozy house to his fat, paisley covered bed where, he was quite certain, mysterious mornings such as these were best spent.
And there he would wait for the sun to return.

38 comments:

  1. I've entered a dreamworld reading you.

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  2. So lovely your descriptions - thank you, xv.

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  3. I love this..
    "Through the magic gauze of the morning, the big white dog moved about the garden like a Dickensian spectre, casting no shadow, making no sound, as he made his way through the mist, up the stairs and back inside the cozy house to his fat, paisley covered bed where, he was quite certain, mysterious mornings such as these were best spent."

    What a contrast to life here in our living ice sculpture. We witnessed here the tragic-comedy of a sleek and elegant greyhound and her elder companion, a kind Sheltie, as they skated on a sea of ice, in futile desperation to gain some sort of traction on what was once known as their yard....

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  4. I love the trees counting in 'arcane, deep-voiced words of their own.'

    You have described so beautifully the atmosphere of the fog which is here also! I have just driven home through it, along tree-lined country roads - wish I could have read your post before driving so I could have thought about it as I travelled!

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  5. A beautiful piece of writing Pamela. That Edward is a wise dog.

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  6. Trees playing hide and seek with one another... How wonderful! I got lost in your post today. Thanks so much.

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  7. Your writing is so lovely and always a pleasure to read. Thank you.

    Gillian

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  8. Another dreamy tapestry you've woven. Such a gifted way with words.
    xo Isa

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  9. You put winter fog into such eloquent words.

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  10. Another lovely writing~ one can get lost in your words.

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  11. Gorgeous are your words and you.
    Thanks for everything you share.
    Love Jeanne

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  12. Hello P&E,

    Wouldn't it be nice if we could all flop down on a "fat, paisley covered bed" instead of having to brave the fog?!

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  13. Now where would that picture be I wonder. It looks Scottish or English.
    So descriptive.

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  14. Pamela, beautifully expressed! I do love a winter fog at dawn. I enjoyed the image of trees playing hide and seek. I can guess the identity of the white dog!

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  15. Lovely description of the painting...a world surreal... perfect for a writer.

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  16. What a wonderful phantasmal description of the fog! I think Edward made a wise decision.

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  17. Smart dog! Beautiful word picture you painted here.

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  18. When I hop on over here for a visit- I feel like a little girl filled with excitement wondering what story will you tell us today. Thank you!

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  19. I'm with Edward - fog puts one off their usual mark and makes us uncertain of our surroundings...

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  20. Lovely piece of writing Pamela - Edward is one sensible dog - fog seems to cling to you as you walk through it. Keep warm. Spring will come eventually - it just seems a very long winter.

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  21. Is this our lovely Atkinson Grimshaw?
    The very name delights - as do your wonderful prose poems.
    So wonderful.

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  22. Beautiful...please go and write a book my dear ..starting today at his very moment..or maybe you allready are...;)

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  23. A very peaceful post. Thanks.

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  24. Ah most wonderful wonderful. And yet again wonderful.
    Enchanting Pamela. As always. Thank you.

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  25. SOme mornings the fog rises off the river near here and it feels like there's still sleep in your eyes when you peek out the window ..it is a nice slow way to wake up

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  26. Ah...Paisley bed or "Barefoot Ave".. we can dream.. you are right! Thanks for stopping by today!!! LOVE your post!

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  27. Thank you also from me for stopping by Pamela. As in an earlier comment from Joyce, I too have a sense of excitement coming here - reminiscent of the childhood awe of a story beautifully told.

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  28. oh, pamela, you have such a way with words! i feel like i'm right there with you and edward. wish i was there with my camera so i could snap a few shots of the ethereal world you've written about!

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  29. Your post could have been describing the scene right here where, although not at all urban, we are enshrouded in an early morning mist. The tops of the cedars are still hidden. I love this sort of fog in the morning - it makes me feel as though time is standing still.

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  30. Beautiful writing - so atmospheric. We had a strangely still foggy morning here last week:) Good for Edward - seeking the warmth and light indoors:)

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  31. I love your poetic writing. Thank you.

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  32. oh wonderfully written, especially the handknitted fog and the description of Edward...

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  33. I do admire your eye to see, your mind to interpret and your wonderful gift with words. A beautiful literary painting.

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  34. Just waiting for the warmth of the sun.

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  35. Beautiful image...from a fog lover too. It is so tranquil isn't it?

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  36. I think I love foggy days almost as much as snow days. So mysterious. Beautiful painting.

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  37. Both the image and your writing are like stepping into another, magical world . . .

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I love to read your comments! Each and every one! Though I'm always reading your comments, I may not respond in the comment section. If you want to write me directly, you may do so at pamela@pamelaterry.net. Thank you for reading!