These pictures were taken almost exactly 24 hours apart, at different points along my usual morning walk. Do you have a favorite? I love both foggy and sunny mornings, but I have to admit that too many days without sun in a row get me down. So this morning when I woke to sun and warmth my spirit felt so light.
When the skies are gray, the water looks gray. The colors on the dunes are muted. Things feel soft and fuzzy and I guess it puts me in a more introspective place, focusing on things that are close up.
But blue skies mean blue water and crisp white clouds and vibrant greens. Things feel defined and in-your-face, like they’re begging to be noticed. I want to spend time scanning the horizon, to see what will be seen.
We need both, don’t we? Times when we focus close and times when we search the horizon. I am grateful for this natural reminder. And today, for the invitation to wonder just how far I can see, and what might be waiting for me to see it.
Coming from Indiana, I was not used to fog, but in 1960, a student at DLI, I fell out for Reveille and walked through fog that obscured my hand in front of me. I realized my boots were not tied, so I bent down to tie them, and realized only then that the fog stopped at about my waist and I could now see all the legs moving around me. I fell in love with Monterey that day.