Archives for posts with tag: walking in fog

One Dark and Foggy Morning

November 11, 2026 //
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Walking this trail in the fog and predawn darkness is pretty much like any other. Which trail? Doesn’t matter; there is nothing to see but fog beyond the small-seeming circle of light bobbing along. It lights enough of the trail that I am safe from stepping into the marsh by mistake, or slipping and falling into a pond.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

… This is definitely no time for AI. 😂 Breathing the fresh autumn air as I walked the trail reminded me with each step how precious this mortal human life is. The experience of walking in the foggy darkness, of waking and walking ahead of the sunrise, of the scents of autumn – AI can’t create or experience any of these. Life is a very human experience.

… Be sure to live some of it…

I smile to myself as I take a seat on a fence rail between the trail and a marsh pond. In summer it’s a very small stagnant pond, more of a puddle, and the ground between the fence and the pond itself becomes grassy and firm. The autumn rain returns each year and refills this pond such that it swells and extends almost to the fence. This section of the trails in this nature park is my favorite. It cuts through the marsh. On a foggy morning like this, it is eerie and mysterious. It’s also on a seasonal trail, restricted between October and May, and I feel a moment of guilt and embarrassment; I had forgotten. It is November.

I sigh to myself, admitting I also ought not really be out here before dawn. The signage is quite specific; park hours are dawn to dusk. I face my mixed feelings about my rule-breaking. It feels strangely American to defy authority and break rules – but that doesn’t address the right/wrong of the choice to be out here on this trail in the darkness of a foggy autumn morning well before daybreak.

I understand myself as someone with a commitment to being my best self, and respecting rules… but here I am, unmistakably not following clearly posted rules. I sit with the discomfort and cognitive dissonance, letting the truth remain prominent in my thoughts long enough to accept who I am, and my decision making which brought me here. Nonjudgmental self-reflection, consideration of what is real and true of this moment. No games or self-defensiveness, no excuses or rationalization. Observation, acknowledgement, and acceptance, only – challenge accepted, I tell myself, and sit awhile longer. My human primate mind really really wants rationalization and approval, I persist in refusing to provide it. I made choices.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The fog envelopes me in the darkness. Hints of daybreak begin to appear. The sky is a paler gray. The oaks dotting the marsh and meadow are silhouetted, black against the sky. Smaller trees appear through the fog, looking like strangers just standing out there in the gloom. Spooky. I have the trail to myself this morning. Not only because it’s ridiculously early, but also, it is a Wednesday, Veterans Day, but an ordinary work day for many.

… The sky and fog all around me continue to lighten as dawn becomes a new day. Everything around me is fog, as though I had inadvertently stepped out of my reality into some vague, unimagined space, gray and… waiting. Waiting, perhaps, for me to choose a direction, select a path, and begin again.

There’s enough light to see now. I’m still surrounded by fog. The sound of distant traffic on the edge of the park is muffled. The air is so still and quiet that the sound of a nearby wakeful duck on the pond ruffling her feathers seems loud. My feet crunch on the gravel trail when I hop down from the fence rail, stretching as I stand. I look down the trail, into the fog. The world seems to disappear completely about 50 ft (something like 15 meters) from me.

… I walk on, imagining each detail that emerges from the fog to be wholly new, and my own doing. If I were to create the world anew – what would I change? With what purpose in mind? How would I shape it with all of humanity in mind? And everything else? What about all the many details I don’t know or can’t imagine? Would my world be comically lopsided without? I stop on the trail further on, realizing I hadn’t yet finished this. Strange foggy morning.

Walking in the fog. It’s a metaphor.

I finish my writing, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women, Words

Like an Old Friend

February 27, 2026 //
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I got the call yesterday evening. My car was ready to be picked up from the body shop. It’s been two… three? Three weeks, since I had dropped it off. I think. Close enough. I’ve been enjoying the comfort and luxury features of my Traveling Partner’s pickup. It’s very nice.

… I already miss the heated steering wheel and seats. 😆 The view is quite different, too. It defrosts faster on a cold morning, and has such a smooth ride! I already know that I will replace my current vehicle with the same make as my Traveling Partner’s truck, having determined the SUV in their product line will suit me nicely. That time is not now… lol

The Anxious Adventurer gave me a ride over to the body shop. I walked past my car looking over the repair work. Wow. Like new. I mean, I guess that’s the point. I slid into the driver’s seat gently, and readjusted the seat position and the mirrors. I start it up…no squeak. I pull out, getting the feel of it again; it’s very different from the pickup. Less luxurious. Less…(or…more?) of something else I can’t put my finger on. Feels weird, but also very comfortable and familiar. I like this car. But…? Yeah. It has its quirks and shortcomings.

From the trail, the vehicle doesn’t matter.

I drove to the trailhead this morning, feeling pleased to be back in my car again. I do enjoy the truck when I drive it, but it isn’t mine. I don’t like leaving my Traveling Partner stuck at home either, now that he can drive when he wants to. I chuckle at myself for being vexed that timing will prevent me from reloading my gear into my car before the end of the work day. I let it go. It’s not urgent.

I head down the trail into the fog. It’s a chilly morning. The season seems uncertain whether to be winter or Spring. I love hitting the trail at a time of morning to see the sunrise. This morning it is bold orange, veiled by the fog, creating a strange diffuse glow on the morning horizon. To the west, only fog, and the trail disappearing into it.

Friday, at last. It’s been that kind of week. I sigh to myself. I’d eagerly drive somewhere and try a new trail this weekend, but I need new boots before I do that. The car is due for an oil change, too. I  feel fairly certain there were other things I want or need to do this weekend, but I can’t recall them now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, tasting the cold morning air and watching the sun rise. I stretch and sigh quietly. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Embracing Change

September 30, 2024 //
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Shit does not always go as planned. Actually, giving it some thought over my coffee, in the deep predawn darkness of an autumn morning while waiting for the sun, I have to wonder if perhaps circumstances vary from our human attempts to plan things more often than a plan ever unfolds as intended?

This morning certainly makes me suspicious of the value in planning. In most respects, it still ends up being a rather commonplace Monday, but instead of getting a hike on the local trail I favor, I’m at a more distant favorite. Instead of working from home today, I’ll be in the office. Instead of cutting the workday short to take my Traveling Partner to an appointment, I’ll need to remember to reschedule it for another day. I’m okay with all of it… though I clearly won’t be getting any laundry done while I’m working (and I feel grateful to have gotten much of that done yesterday).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept like crap last night, after also staying up later than usual enjoying South Park with my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer (for whom many seasons are as yet unwatched). It was a good time and well-worth the deviation from my routine.

During the wee hours, I thought I heard an exclamation of annoyance or frustration, but upon waking heard only the quiet of a household at rest. I couldn’t place the sound and wasn’t even certain I’d actually heard something… but I had a message from my partner, left for me sometime earlier, letting me know he wasn’t sleeping and gently suggesting I consider canceling his appointment and working from the office. An easy enough change to make, the hardest part of that being deciding whether to respond (risking waking him) and remembering to make the call to reschedule the appointment for another day. After waffling a bit, I take a chance on a short response, and finish dressing and making coffee for my partner to wake up to later, and slip away into the early morning darkness.

Change is. Just go with it, when you can. It’s easier than fighting it.

I sit quietly with my coffee and my thoughts watching an autumn mist gathering in lowlands along river and creek banks becoming a fog that stretches over the highway. My Traveling Partner pings me a string of emoji; he is grateful for the coffee and feeling loved. He plans to return to bed soon. We exchange a few words. Fuck, I love that man. I miss him when we’re not in the same space however much I also enjoy my solitude. He’s quite remarkable and I adore him.

I sit smiling “for no reason” (isn’t love reason enough?), and feeling grateful. Love isn’t perfect – we’re imperfect creatures – but g’damn it is pretty fucking wonderful.

The mist has become a fairly dense fog. The sunrise comes so late now that it’s likely I won’t get a walk today without a headlamp and the will to walk before daybreak. One more change of plans. I sigh and put my boots on. I grab my cane and tuck my purse out of sight. I fumble in my backpack in the darkness (it’s always in my car in case of emergency) and pull out my headlamp. It’s as good a time to begin again as any other…

Walking through fog before dawn… it’s a metaphor.
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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being