Fog soup

This is the time of year that brings fog to the coast regularly.

The water is cool, and the air tries to heat up, and all hell breaks loose.

It usually burns off midday, but the chill that it brings in the morning just makes your bones rattle.

Trying to find inspiration to lug my camera around during this gray time of year is hard, but each morning I tuck it next to me in the front seat, load Honey and the kids up and do the morning drop off routine.

Today the fog just filled up my senses. Everything seemed magnified at the edge of visibility.

I was photographing some wild ducks, and out of the fog drifted a ghost.

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Birds emerged amid the ordinary shapes and angles.

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Little, inhabited islands appeared out of the fog.

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Right now, as much as warm sand and blazing sun are what I long for, there is a sense of peace and ethereal beauty along the winter coast that settles me.