Whenever I see a fog in the early morning, I grab a camera and run out, naked if necessary, but it wasn’t today.

I know the sun is rising and burning off the fog, so I have minutes. The mist has beauty and silence; it seems the world stands still. Everything is more beautiful and peaceful, and it soothes and quiets me.

I’ve been getting up at 3 or 4 a.m. lately; I don’t know why; I can’t sleep. I need to rest during the day sometimes, just for a few minutes. I meditate every morning when I wake up, I come downstairs and sit quietly in the living room until I hear Maria stirring upstairs, and then I go and join her.

We talk for a while and then get up together.

She knows I love to take pictures in the fog, so she patiently waited for me to get dressed and get the right lens.

She’s the pied piper for the farm; the sheep and donkeys don’t like to graze in the hot sun, so they are hungry and ready to eat before it gets warm.

One of us walks into the pasture to check on the cheap and take videos or pictures.  The fog makes it all the more mystical.

The statue of St. Christopher (we think) makes it comfortable to pray, meditate, or stand quietly and look out over the marshes and hills.

At some point, I go into the house and start breakfast going or have a few quiet minutes to think. There is a lot going on in my life and it sometimes gets all scrambled in my head.

The donkeys are the last to go out because everything has to be their idea; they do not do what they are told to unless they have no choice.

When I returned to the house, I could see the sun breaking through the clouds and the first sign of blue approaching. The circle was turned, and the fog would be gone in minutes.