Living out here where the earth’s edge embraces the ocean’s limit we are blessed with magnificent vistas, angry storms, and wild, um, wildlife.
My favourite times on Nova Scotia’s coast, however, are when the fog infiltrates.
The fog grabs hold here and challenges the sun to wrestle the sky from its grip. We get socked in fog thick as stew often. And when it rolls in and sits down at the table for a good long multi-course feast, I welcome its company.
Running in fog is refreshing, mysterious, and creates a greater focus on self. Staying at home with a fire in the hearth during a good blanket of fog is insular, safe, and reflective.
Nothing lulls me into the rhythm of slow and meticulous tidal flow like the sound of the foghorn. It is the perfect soundtrack for running, reading, sleeping, drawing, drinking coffee (or wine or rum), and just plain old being.