I Haven't the Foggiest

Reservoir Fog
Oil on canvas, 6x12

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Every morning for a while now, I've gotten up early, taken the dogs out and looked for fog in the back field. Every day, it's been there, and so I've packed up and hit the road, determined to learn to paint fog.

Today, I stopped at the Groton Reservoir, a mile or so from our house. The morning was silent and windless. A skim of pollen spread on the water along the far shore. Otherwise, nothing disturbed the surface.

Fog lay thick along the trees. It seemed to outline their tops, and then, farther away, to gather near the ground.

Fog really is a cloud at ground level. This kind of humid-day summer fog comes when the land cools at night. Condensation is produced by the difference in temperature between the air and the cooler ground, and this condensation is what makes the fog.

All of this makes me think of my father, who, when we were kids and would ask him something, would often say, "I haven't the foggiest."

As I was standing there painting and thinking, I heard a couple heading toward the little parking lot. They'd been out walking, and they were talking, the sound carrying clearly in the still air.

Well, the wife was talking, and loudly, and with a Brooklyn accent, about the military-industrial complex. It's been a long time since I've heard that phrase.

Here is a really cool photograph I found while I was researching fog.