A dense fog rolled in this morning. Much like rain, a good fog awakens my soul. It reminds me of Germany and baking bread and hot coffee and walking around with coats and mittens on-while hoping this next ancient church might let me use the bathroom.
And due to the fact that I’m a German-born woman, with thick German blood, who married a German, who speaks (broken) German and loves a good Weinerschnitzel, fog is the memory catalyst into my mind bank.
(A memory trampoline, if you will.)
A long walk on the top of an Austrian mountain-in the wrong direction-brought Biceps and I to this gorgeous churchyard. We rewarded ourselves by eating at a local restaurant, enjoying pommes fritas und bier. The fog blanketed the cemetery as we ate, reminding me simultaneously of bad horror movies and the hovering of the Holy Spirit. (Is that possible?)
After hours on a train, in a cab and then on a boat, we made it to Hallstadt, Austria. It was a silent and foggy morning-no motor cars, no tourists and no one awake yet-making us feel as if we were the only two people in this quaint town.
However, once the townspeople woke up, they proved us wrong-hollering out their “Guten Morgens” und “Kaffee?”. But for a moment, it was just us, the cows and the fog.
It may be weird, but fog wraps me up in a cozy blanket and makes me feel protected. What’s your favorite weather change?