"The villagers pointed out to me a stream in the distance, and, following the sound of its waters, I entered the mountain valley. After I had gone about a league, the stream came to an end and the woodcutters’ path disappeared. There I encountered an old man. He pointed toward the clouds and mist, where I could make out a tiny patch of yellow-white, appearing and disappearing as the mountain vapors shifted. [...] The scene was of such extraordinary purity and remoteness that I felt myself to be completely beyond the ordinary world. My heart and spirit trembled with awe, and my skin quivered."
- Hakuin Ekaku (1686 - 1769)
Photographer's note. This morning, my wife excitedly woke me up at the crack of dawn and pointed at our bedroom window. Groggy and sans glasses, I was confused and initially saw "nothing" but immediately understood: fog! I rushed to the car with my camera, a tripod, and a hastily brewed cup of coffee. Years of bemoaning "fog opportunities" lost - because of lethargy, sluggishness, or, more rarely, lack of motivation - have provided me with a ready mental list of local parks I can go to when the occasion presents itself. I arrived just as the fog was starting to lift and had no more than 30 or so minutes to "meditate frantically" on the stillness - all photographers are familiar with this seeming paradox 😊- but, my-oh-my how otherworldly these 30 minutes were! Here are a few other snapshots in time of a timeless experience...















