At times fog seems to obscure our lives.
We humans face challenges and troubles and can’t see our way through the low-lying mist of clouds come down to earth.
The clouds leave their sky-home and visit rivers, swamps, highways and spider webs.
One must navigate carefully through the earth-bound wisps of clouds. You don’t want to crash into another slow-moving vehicle. Your eyes peer ahead, attempting to see what is now obscured, what sometimes appears confusing.
Yesterday, on our way to Marquette for Barry’s procedure (Transesophageal Echocardiogram (TEE) with Planned Cardioversion) we were in high spirits, despite the fog.
The plants alongside the road seemed to shine with–no, could it truly be?–frost? When the fog thickened near Michigamme we left the car with camera to photograph its beauty and I noticed the almost-frozen leaf of a lichen.
Yep, readers. It was frost. (Although really not thick enough to capture in a photo yet.)
The in-land portions of the Upper Peninsula often get the freezing weather before the lake-warmed shore-dwellers.
The fog perhaps was the result of cold and heat meeting one another head on. Two contrasting temperature systems coming face-to-face and producing obscuring fog.
It is as beautiful as it can be treacherous.
The lace of the spider web as the sun peered through the fog shined beautifully into the day, always reminding us that life is an interconnected web.
Unfortunately, Barry’s irregular heartbeat did not re-establish to a normal rhythm when they shocked his heart twice during the procedure at the Heart Institute.
Just another foggy area through which to navigate with faith and hope and more procedures in the near future. You know the fog will clear soon and sunny skies will again appear. Thanks for all your goodwill, friends.