Sky Dragons and a Million Dollar Bridge

When the Theodosia Bridge was completed in 1952, it was called "The Million Dollar Bridge". A few years ago, the government mandated that the old paint be removed and replaced with one that was more environmentally friendly, and the new paint job cost more than it did to build the bridge.  The material didn't hold up as well as the original, and it's slated to be painted again soon.  They're estimating four million this time.

Aside from all of that, it certainly looked like a Four Million Dollar bridge this morning,

enveloped in sun-lit fog.

The breeze was constantly changing the formation of the fog, 

swirling it to form hawks and dragons...

before the sun started to burn its way through, casting its gold on the water.

A window in the fog revealed distant hilltops.

Nearby, a fisherman had parked his boat and trailer, and was out on the chilly water, 

but in this particular spot, it was only God and me 

and a lone gull, soaring over the bridge.

It wasn't a bad way to start the day.

I headed home through the fog, and contrary to appearances, 

the other end of the bridge was still in place.

Priceless.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Skywatch Friday

A Different Place

                                                                                                                             

Fog changes everything.

Wild grape vines become a decoration for the oak tree...

 and spider webs festoon the cedars like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

On closer inspection, I can't find the spiders,

but their handiwork leaves no doubt that they've been here.

Even the familiar road becomes unfamiliar,

like something from a fairy tale.

The pattern of the forest is simplified, a single tree isolated.

I cannot see the One who made the fog on this misty morning,

but His fingerprints are everywhere.

He also made the stars.

Genesis 1:16

Light From Above

The sky was clear before dawn under a star-studded canopy,

Orion shining so bright overhead

you could almost touch the sword hanging from his belt.

As cool air settled in,

the lake, still warm from the sun, 

put on a new robe...

reflected sky and fog and grass...

soothed the memory of the harsh summer.

Trees vanished in the mist, 

then reappeared like the spare brush strokes of a Japanese ink painting.

On the hilltop, the early light streamed through the trees,

transforming the woods into a place of wonder...

and worship.

Linking with Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood
and
Weekly Top Shot

Recycled Rain

Yesterday's rain soaked into the thirsty ground,

and reappeared this morning as fog in the valleys and foothills.

It coated the spider's web, so beautiful and deadly...

de-cluttered the forest... 

and drifted lazily across the landscape.

He draws up the drops of water,

which distill as rain to the streams;

the clouds pour down their moisture

and abundant showers fall on mankind.

Job 36:27, 28

Linking with Communal Global

Thanks to Kim Klassen for her lovely texture, Elevate.

Misty Morning Magic

The morning is foggy, and I'm up early. Don is busy with chores, and I load my camera and tripod in the car, leave Barley with Don, and set out. I follow the fog through town, where no one stirs, and only a few monotone buildings and trees are visible.  

West of town, I turn north and drive up a hill, where I park and wait for the light. The hills are still shadowed and an ocean of fog fills the valley. Birds and cicadas are awake, and together, their song seems to wake up the landscape. First light reveals the road I traveled to get here, winding through the valley, a freshly mowed field, and treetops rising from the mist. Time passes quickly as I click away on my Nikon, and soon the sun rises over my left shoulder and illuminates the valley.  

It's such a beautiful spot to spend alone with God; I can imagine staying to watch the play of light as the sun rises in the sky, but breakfast with Don is waiting, and a walk with Barley, and there's a boat to clean and berries to water, for starters. I'd better get on with the day. 

 I'm pretty sure it will be better for having been here.

Waiting for the Sun's Warmth

                      Fog lays down on the hillside, waiting for the sun's warmth,

                   
                             like a dog laying by his truck, waiting for a ride.

The One That Got Away

At dawn Sunday morning, a thick fog blanketed the lake, and I grabbed my Nikon and tripod, jumped in the car, and headed for the other side. Just before I got to the bridge, I glanced down to see a boat and 2 fishermen near the high bank, half obscured by the fog. "That would make a nice shot," I thought, slowing briefly before continuing over the bridge. I decided to check out the early light from the west bank and then come back to capture the image of the fishermen. 

I should have known better. 

Across the lake, fog sheathed the sun, while the underside of the bridge rose out of the water like a docked battleship. Labor Day campers were being treated to a glorious morning, with the first muted sun rays reflecting on the water, and blue sky peeking through the mist. An energetic visitor jogged down the highway from town, and at the Marina, a man strolled with his dog, leash in one hand, coffee mug in the other, both silhouetted against the sky. Three boats rested against the sand, possibly waiting for their last outing of the summer.

While I clicked away with my camera, something was tugging at the edge of my brain. The image of fishermen in the fog. The one that got away. By then it was too late to capture the same thing I saw earlier; the light would be different, even if the boat were still there, which was doubtful. Photography is often, for me, as much about the shots I miss, as the ones I take. Besides the limitations of ability and equipment, there is the obvious and sometimes irritating fact that at any given moment, a person can only be in one place.  

There is a silver lining to this, however. That fishermen photo, though I can't share it with anyone, rests in the archives of my mind, where it is perfect, with no issues of focus, exposure, white balance, or print quality. Wayne Gretzky said, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." Well, maybe not always. 

Where there used to be hills