January 23, 2010

When Fog Freezes




One morning last winter I woke very early, bundled Buckaroo, leashed the dog, and headed to the great outdoors where I discovered frosty particles dangling from every surface. It was the kind of beauty that made me reconsider my harsh feelings toward winter.

Because I am usually a late sleeper-inner, I thought I was daily dozing through this incredible spectacle (and was hoping to capture it with my camera the next morning), but Sweet P, who is required by the school district to rise at an ungodly hour, assured me that the dangly frost was a rare occurrence.

Since then I have wondered why the world looked so spectacular on that sunrise, and now I know: Freezing Fog.

My friend Rosie Mama mentioned that her mid-western friends were seeing loads of freezing fog out their way, and being the fanatical Googler that I am, I looked it up, and Lo and Behold: Freezing fog creates rime (not in anyway related to poetry) which is what was gathered and dangling all over my little world that morning so long ago.

As a side note: I was trying to explain to Buckaroo recently (little backseat driver that he is) that I had to drive slowly because of the fog. "What's fog?" he asked-- We're hitting the "Why?" stage now-- and when I explained that fog is a cloud that's very close to the earth, he asked, "What's erf?"

So much work to be done.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I enjoyed reading your blog this morning - it made smile and that's a nice way to start any morning. Your picture is beautiful - I love sparkle and shimmery photos.
Love, Mom

Suzanne said...

I remember with extremely vivid detail sitting in Mrs. Honaker's first grade classroom for reading at a table that was bumped up against the window as I first read Sandburg and watched the padding fog creep across the schoolyard. I thought you'd like that, my poetess friend.

Patricia Caspers said...

Mom, Unfortunately, it's not my photo. I never did get one, but I hope I will before the winter's over, and then I will swap them out.

Suzanne, Were you reading the Rutabaga Stories? I've never read them. I do so love that image of the padding fog, my literary friend.