Fog on Churchill Lake
Fog
On our way home driving through New England, we spent part of a day in what I could call my "other" home town.
I was born in Groton, Massachusetts (and so suppose that to be my hometown?), but we moved to neighbouring Concord, MA when I was a baby, and we lived there until just before my teen years, when we moved next door to Westford. That makes Concord the place I lived in the longest continuously in the USA.
While browsing around in Concord on this trip we went to my family's old home, walked the North Bridge and the battlefield road and then looked around in town and I got into a bookshop and bought a nice edition of Thoreau's Walden and of his Civil Disobedience which I am now re-reading.
Thoreau is an amazing light, his writing is always so clear and so vivd. Two days ago, Norma and I were walking Sam by the lake across the street from us and the scene as shown in this week's image brought to mind one of the poems Thoreau wrote about something we here in Port Maitland are all too familiar with - fog.
Fog
Dull water spirit—and Protean god
Descended cloud fast anchored to the earth
That drawest too much air for shallow coasts
Thou ocean branch that flowest to the sun
Incense of earth, perfumed with flowers—
Spirit of lakes and rivers, seas and rills
Come to revisit now thy native scenes
Night thoughts of earth—dream drapery
Dew cloth and fairy napkin
Thou wind-blown meadow of the air.
Henry David Thoreau
