The fog hung low all day, still and thick. This morning the trail was almost deserted – one squirrel, one dog and its human. Aside from two lonely-looking ducks, I saw no other birds – and this place is usually teeming with them – so the air was strangely silent. Peaceful, but melancholy. The treeline across the pond stood shrouded in mist, faraway and dream-like.
I’ve never really tried to shoot photos in the fog, but here I had my chance.
I discovered this: it’s hard. My shots are grey, flat and washed-out, the subjects just shapeless blobs of darker grey.
I tried to pick a few that captured the ambience, but to me, these just don’t quite represent the surreal, pensive mood of the time and place.
Good night, all. Thanks, as always, for visiting.