One of my favorite things about the San Francisco Bay Area is the fog. You can look at the view of the city from any angle on any day or night of any year, and you never see the same thing twice. Sometimes the fog rolls in like a slow motion tsunami, curling over the headlands, squeezing under and around the Golden Gate bridge, slowly enveloping the city in its gray, cottony shroud. I have been driving around taking pictures with my new Father’s Day camera, and once again this had allowed me to take the time to really cherish the views that I grew up with.
Good views are like flowers and clouds and babies. They are each stunning, each unique, but they are always around, so people just get used to them and stop appreciating the magic in them. And we can’t forget the light, the spectacular light. The way it caresses the world, sparkling off the water, dancing off the windows, adding highlights and shadow, tinged by the color of sunset and sunrise. It warms us as it delights us.
But still, as much as I love the light, it is just a part of the glorious vistas one can find. At night, when the sun has gone on to shine upon other parts of the world, the views of the bay come to life in different ways. To find a lofty vantage point and watch the sun sink behind the Pacific Ocean in a riot of hues and colors, and marvel as millions of lights flicker on to dispel the gloom, that is a moment to be treasured.
And yet the fog still holds its own place in my heart. When my friends and I were young teenagers, we spent a lot of time hanging out in the cemetery near my mother’s house. There were nights when the thick fog blanketed us in veils of mystery. But perhaps best of all were the rare ground fogs that crawled close to the damp earth. Like a scene from some old black and white Dracula movie, it left just the tops of the tombstones peeking out, and lent the cemetery a deliciously creepy air. When nature decides to be your set decorator, you know you are in for some astounding scenery. Take a new look at the world around you. It is never the same as you thought it was, no matter how many times you have seen it. Not if you look hard enough. Or I might suggest that you take a child with you, and let them show you the things you think you have seen. Because their eyes are never blind to the mystery.