In A Fog

Boyfriend and I visited Catalina over New Year's.  All during our time there, the island – known for its bison, golf carts, flying fish, its Deco and decorated Casino – rested under a blanket of fog.  Except for the day that we left, when the sun perversely warmed the sky into a Baroque twist of cloud and blue, the air moved like cold smoke, choking and freezing.

Our boat left Long Beach in mid-morning, progressing carefully into a blank wall of fog.  It was odd, looking ahead and seeing nothing but a pale mystery – with all details erased.  For all we knew, the world could have been flattened into a geometric plane, and we were about to motor over its edge into a soft, white void.

For days I felt its cold, vaporous fingers twisting through my hair and pressing down on my eyes like pennies.

Once we drove to the other side of the island, plunging into the morning's foggy embrace.  When our path ran low, trees appeared and disappeared in the atmosphere's cold sweat, like pieces in a ghostly chess game – checking and check-mating at will.  But when the road broke free and climbed above the misty fabric we were able to look down upon a fogbank that stretched below us, solid and yielding, like a cloudy continent.

The fog was endless and white, touched with gold and turquoise by a hidden though still laboring sun.  It rose like the breath of whales from the ocean, it dropped like the veils hiding the stars and extended like a gentle, feathery lake.

Throughout our stay I saw the dusky tendrils curl in the maritime breeze.  They flowed like a rhythmic stream.  They whispered to me, silent stories of their birthplaces:  the sweet earth, the mountains jade-colored and carved like an opium pipe…and the generous ocean that strung droplets of water into a necklace of melting pearls before offering it to the sky.

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10 responses to “In A Fog

  1. Absolutely beautiful as always, Aubrey. Even shrouded in fog, you can't have a bad time on Catalina.

  2. Beautiful. I've always found fog fascinating, and you just told me why.

  3. Yay! Aubrey is back! And overflowing with the eloquence.I missed you! But this post makes up for everything.

  4. Lovely writing Aubrey. Have you ever thought of writing essays and articles for magazines? That second paragraph about the earth suddenly changing was gorgeous. It is often foggy in Seattle. I live in the realm of gray. Lucy, giving you big google eyes of admiration

  5. I love losing myself in your stories

  6. Coming to this space of your postings is always an experience of rest and serenity. How do you explain that?

  7. I love the early-morning, unpolluted fog we get on the coasts, in the villages. It's like a glimpse of heaven and I swear I hear soul-stirring music. Even if I can't recognize the instrument.

  8. Question: Do you write love letters to Boyfriend?
    I could imagine you bringing back the lost art of penning romantic letters to your dearest.
    Or do you save all of this for us? *swoon*

  9. Sara – Boyfriend and I love Catalina; we go there at least once a year. I've never seen such a concentration of Happy People in my life!
    Purplesque – It was indeed a foggy vacation and I realized for the first time its varied colors and textures.
    pyrit – Thanks – very glad to be back! Work, etc. led to a late start – how nervy of it.
    Lucy – You must live in a world of dreams. Fog cloaks so much that you have to imagine what lies beyond. So many words came to mind as I walked down the cold streets or looked for the hidden mountains.
    Lavender – Thank you! I've had quite enough of the contemporary world, one needs to get lost every now and then.
    WBaby – Sometimes what you need manifests itself in what you give. Does that make sense?
    Suga – "Even if I can't recognize the instrument." Write about it! Perhaps it will come to you!
    AmyH – Boyfriend wouldn't know what to do with a romantic letter. I don't think. Maybe I should send him a billet-doux and see what happens?

  10. But did you dance? Did you wear a vintage sheath, a flower over your ear, and waltz back in time? Did champagne bubble, lipstick stain cheeks, laughter flow? Did your parents accompany you? Was it romantic?

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