Golden Fog

It rained last night, a slow, steady spring rain. In the middle of the night I got up, hearing a drip. In my half-sleep I thought  that it was a faucet left on by one of my children. It wasn't until I reached the sink that I realized that I was hearing rain.

Early this morning while my husband prepared to leave for the airport, I lay in bed and listened to the rhythmic drip in the gutter as it drummed on the downspout. Later, after he left, I stood at the kitchen sink. The rain had stopped. Through the window I could see fog as an opaque spot above the lake in the darkness. As the sun rose, the fog slowly rolled up the hay field, pushed by the warm fingers of light that reached through the trees.

It's unseasonably warm for the first of February. Insects were bumping against the glass of the dining room window during breakfast. Once the 2 year old was strapped safely in his seat and the kids were all eating well, I took advantage and stepped out to the screened porch to snap a few shots. As I did so, geese honked from a pond somewhere in the woods. Crows called. A red shouldered hawk cried out. Goldfinches twittered to one another. The rooster sent his plaintive complaints to the sun. 

It was magical. I wanted to tromp through the rain-wet grass, breath deeply, and just absorb the peacefulness that pervaded the place. But instead I recorded a few photos to remind me of that moment and hurried back inside.

The kids are dressed now. Breakfast is cleared away. The washing machine is making its annoying noises. My oldest is pounding on the piano. The middle two are momentarily busy, and the toddler plays at my feet. 

The mist has swept past the house, seeped through the trees, and saturated the lower reaches of the woods. The tree trunks that catch the sun glow golden. But soon the mist will be gone. The fog will dissipate. Hopefully my late-night/early-morning-induced fog will dissipate too. In the meantime, I'm going to try to hold onto that glow today amidst the diaper changes, tantrums, and endless demands of children. Maybe I can even spread a little of that golden, peaceful glow to my little ones.