An Ode to Fog

Featuring the ‘GhostLight Series’, a collection of photographs I captured during a recent, particularly fog-infected December evening.

I would title this piece What the Fog, but I have a mother and I do not think she would approve. Hi, mom. Love you.

The topic today is, as you may have guessed: Fog.


I am obsessed. I do not think you understand (unless you’re just as fogging crazy as I am) to what extent I love fog. If you’re a close friend of mine, you’ll know that I base my life-rather illogically-on the symbolism I come across. That is part of my truth; that’s just how it is. No matter how much logic I apply to every day life, I cannot escape this one, strange addiction I have to symbolism-anyplace, anytime.IMG_3538

Fog is not required for life like rain (and if the pitter-pat noise rain creates is more your cup of tea, check out Kate’s article on how to best enjoy a storm here), but it’s such a beautifully haunting creation of nature, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to set the tone of this piece with a poem:



is a lonely comforter.

It envelops its victims like a cloak;

paints pitter-pat raindrops on their eyelashes and reaches its damp hands down their throats, only to pull out wordless breaths that camouflage themselves within its effervescent haze.

The sky has been drowned and has found its way down to the people.

Streetlights, fireflies that cannot float.

Their essence escaping until it erodes

by way

of fallen rain clouds.

This pin-prick pointillism keeps one confined within this coffin

A blindness five feet forward whichever way one turns

You are not lost-

not alone.

The fog is a lonely comforter,

and within it

you are home.


This blindness I speak of is in reference to the symbolism Mother Nature bestows upon us that I respect so entirely. When you’re immersed within these fallen clouds, you can only act upon the environment that you know, able to seek your path only when you are close enough to become aware of it. This is every single life experience we subject ourselves to. We are aware of our basic path we are set on, and we know we are close to being able to take the next step(s), but if we move too fast… we may be moving in the correct and unobstructed direction, but it’s more likely that we would be moving in a direction highly trafficked by debris and obstacles that take much too long for our simple brains to figure out a satisfying solution to.



So many characteristics of fog are complex and sensory-the smell is similar to a fresh rainfall, but lingers longer in your lungs; it’s comforting and damp to your eyes; your skin responds with gooseflesh and yet you still would not admit to being cold. It’s as if you’ve exited your body and given yourself a hug… which may be why I would describe the emotional response to fog as being alone, but not lonely. Being alone comes with a specific barrage of emotions; responsibility, independence, a liberty to do as you please, to name a few. As positive as these emotional responses are, they can breed loneliness if left to their own devices for too long. Somehow, fog has a presence that inhibits loneliness from entering one’s cognizance. As the poem stated, you are not alone.

Visually, fog creates such an interesting dynamic. Lights can finally contain their brilliance when subjected to the restrictiveness of low hovering clouds. It’s as though they’ve been given a break from straining to push themselves to the brink to enlighten others, and yet they are noticed more, deemed more prominent and arguably more beautiful, when their illumination has been restrained.









After all this has been said and done, the best part about the eerie wonderland it creates is simple and unscholarly. Fog creates an adventure, no matter your place in the world. It covers the topography you know so well and transforms it into an ominous, omnipotent landscape that you should ache to discover. It is the static behind your eyes; between your ears. It is the voice in your head you can never physically hear.

You are not lost-IMG_3442

not alone.


The fog is a lonely comforter


and within it


you are home.


Much love,

Quinn ❤


Add yours →

  1. I love this post. Especially the third image (the one way sign with three circles of light). And that poem… so fantastic!
    You are quite a talented writer, Quinn 🙂


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