June 23, 1988 - Fog: It's Not All Doom and GloomJune 23, 1988[The Suffolk Times /Pace Ilk
Fog: It's Not All Doom and Gloom
By Paul Stoutenburgh
Awakening Sunday morning I
thought we had been dealt a cloudy day
but as the sleepers cleared from my
eyes, I could see we were shrouded in
fog. Whether on land or at anchor in our
boat, that means a special kind of day to
explore before its magic leaves.
Fog changes our world overnight just
as snow does in the winter. Up and out,
I could see fairly well back to the pas-
Focus on
Nature
ture fence but the old windmill in the far
northeast corner was playing hide -and-
seek in a mantle of cool, white mist.
First I'd see it, then it would steal away.
Or would it? No, it was still there but
only the faintest suggestion of its true
stature.
Boots were the footwear for my walk
because every blade of grass dripped
with dew. Ten steps and my boots glis-
tened with wetness. I was off toward the
garden and the pasture. The cow stopped
munching momentarily to look up and
greet me. From some distance in the fog
she loomed bigger and broader than ever.
Could she be a water buffalo on the
plains of Africa? I walked forward and
the clank of her bell brought her back
into reality. When she got close enough
I could see her back was sprinkled with
small, white petals. She'd been foraging
in the multiflora rose that rings the
pasture.
How heavenly the perfume from these
roses and the Russian olives this time
of year. What a pleasure to the senses.
Off in a field to the north a Bob -White
called. I mimicked it and it answered. He
would be my companion this morning.
How grateful I was that the nearby field
had been left fallow. Most might think
it shabby and unattended, but now we
have a much more productive area for
wildlife.
Unused Fields Are Home
The deer browse out there. Mice,
shrews and other small animals have
taken up home there. Birds of all sorts
forage and nest there and above all it's
brought the Bob -White back to our area.
These unused fields have also brought
back the red - tailed hawk. On a clear day
you can see him patrolling the skies
above. A cultivated field, sterile and
weed free, has no room for wildlife. Be
thankful for overgrown fields.
In the garden that is fast trying to re-
vert like the overgrown field on the
other side of the fence, the tomatoes,
carrots, beets, spinach, chard and
kohlrabis are doing well. Past showers
and today's heavy fog have stimulated
them into a vigorous stand and they
seemed to put growth on overnight. On
each kohlrabi grey -green leaf droplets of
water, like balls of mercury, glistened.
It must be the surface tension and the
texture of the leaf that make this phe-
nomenon for I didn't see it on the
spinach or chard leaves. Now from the
nearby hedgerow a red - winged blackbird
is scolding. No doubt her young are
nearby. I'll be on my way.
Spider webs are best seen on days like
this. Foggy dew seems to cling to each
strand and makes the web look like a
jeweled castle. There are long single
strands that spiders use like Tarzan's
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
DEW ON GRAPE LEAF - -A foggy day can be a pleasant adventure for those who take time to investigate its
magic.
vine to move from place to place; from
the rosebush to the fence, from the tool
shed to the holly. These lines traced
where they had moved during the night.
Then there were the flat mats of web
on grass and bushes. Here the spider lies
in wait for an insect visitor to become
tangled in the spreading trap. How, a
most visible web with dew clinging to
each strand. The web of these spiders is
so dense it seems you could pick it up
like a piece of cloth.
Further along I found the characteris-
tic spider web, the one we all think of --
the classic. It was beautifully strung
between dead branches of a fallen bush
by the smoke house. I'd been thinking
of clearing the area, but now that I've
seen how well it serves the spider, I'll
leave it. I stood there and marveled at
the jewel - studded palace.
Birds Abound in Fog
The Bob -White had followed me. In
the background, out of the fog, his
cheery call let me know he was still
.here. As I stood in reverence to the
wonder of the world about me, two
house finches flew by. Their naviga-
tional equipment seemed to be running
fine. The fog had not grounded them. In
the bushes to the left, a catbird in its
somber grey slipped into the brush by
the pond and seemed to disappear like a
ghost. It made not a sound. After all, it
had work to do. Babies to feed. No time
to spend with me.
My bees that have been so busy lately
and so intent in their work were
nowhere to be seen. I put my ear along-
side the hive and could hear them
buzzing inside, but evidently foggy days
are not for them. Like so many, when
the weather keeps us in, we find plenty
of work to do.
I headed back to the house through the
pasture. A rabbit hopped there and there,
seemingly trying to keep dry by miss-
ing the big wet clumps of grass for he
had no boots to cover his feet.
Passing by the pond I could see
duckweed, that tiny, green, pond - loving
plant, had completely covered the sur-
face. I'd noticed this earlier in the week
when I checked to see if the turtles were
out. Last week when I saw them, their
backs were completely covered with the
green weed. They didn't seem to mind.
As a matter of fact, their new duckweed -
green camouflaged them perfectly and
I'm sure made them cooler in the hot
sun.
As I headed back up to the house, two
roosters strutted along the old split -rail
fence while below the hens picked at
what chickens pick at most contentedly.
The dog I had left sleeping on the patio
got up, shook, stretched and greeted me.
A scratch under the chin was all he
asked. The fog was lifting now. Bright-
ness seemed to fill the fields and I could
see the back woods a half mile away.
Perhaps the sun would be out soon and
then most of the city folks would head
for the beach. For me, I'll have the sun
later, but for now I've had my magical
foggy day.
•
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