Now things begin to look “otherworldly” again, and why shouldn’t they? They are. That’s what it amounts to: Another world. The mist is everywhere now, like a thick primordial soup. One world is giving way to another. Is it giving way peacefully? I doubt it, although it may seem that way to some people. Soon we will hear the horrible cracking and booming of the ice on the ponds and rivers as it cracks open in agony and slams against the shores and banks. And where will our peace be then?
This mist hides so much. It’s a game of smoke and mirrors, where thieves run back and forth from one realm to another. A tiny island looms in the shadows of the fog. Can you see it in the picture? Is it surrounded by water or ice? Is it safe to try to make it to the island, or will it lure a person or craft to its demise? We cannot have lighthouses everywhere, after all. What’s your gamble? Will you head out to the island in the mist?
The will-o’-the-wisp usually haunts us in warmer weather, but I think it will make an exception for the days of the mist.
|A tiny island in the mist.|