Saturday in the park

It was foggy yesterday. This wasn’t the vanish-with-dawn kind of fog, or even the sun-burns-through-by-noon kind of fog. This was stay-all-day fog. As I walked through the uptown streets, several times the sky seemed to brighten and I thought ‘A-ha, now the fog will lift and the sun will come out’. But it didn’t. By the time I headed home again, I think I could see a little farther down King Street, but I wouldn’t swear to it in court.

But I was born here. I grew up with fog. I like fog. And most folks here don’t seem to mind it, to judge from the number of people strolling through town and passing a pleasant afternoon in the park. If you need sunshine to enjoy your day, you’d best move to Fredericton. But if you live in Saint John, and it’s foggy, that usually means it’s not windy. It’s calm and mild and easy on the eyes. And sometimes that’s just what you need.

Taken on September 25, 2010


the fog people

You never know with fog. Sometimes it hovers just offshore but doesn’t come any closer. Sometimes it closes in overnight and evaporates with the morning sun. Sometimes it is more dramatic, clinging coldly to low-lying areas until it finally lets go, trailing ragged white streamers in surrender. But most of the time, you don’t see the fog settle or lift. It is there when you drive to work, and gone when you look out at lunch time. Fog has a mind of its own. It comes and it goes, and you never know.

Taken on June 22, 2010