Last August, I woke to a thick blanket of fog just beginning to be lit by the rising sun. My camera was grabbed, and as I was dashing out to take some photos, Hims suggested we go to one of the lakes so I could get a few shots of the mist rising off the water. On our way out there, we passed the Museum of the US Air Force, where the field was shrouded and the planes on the other side of the buildings not even visible from the road. Perfect. (Note: Please click on the photos to open larger versions of them; they will look better that way!)
It was nearly silent that morning, and what little noise I could hear was muted, like the fog was muffling everything as it wrapped around me.
The fog began to lift a little, allowing me glimpses of a tree line in the distance, and every so often an oddly echoing honk of a goose could be heard.
Walking between these huge machines, I could look up and see birds waiting for the sun to appear and dry out their feathers. Some were on the tail of the famous Hanoi Taxi, and others rested on propellers that hadn’t moved in decades.
Even the drive home seemed surreal.
I guess I can find serenity is some of the oddest things, the quiet of a foggy morning among the ghosts of the past being one of them.
(In response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge – Serenity)