Fog Rolling Into Glen Ferris

Today was one of those days that West Virginia made it nearly impossible to keep my eyes on the road.

Within three miles of my home, I counted five mountain run-offs turned waterfalls.

As if a magical amount of waterfalls was not enough distraction, the fog refused to be upstaged. It danced over the river. Then, blurred the lines between earth and sky and water and air.

It left me breathless.

West Virginia and I have our differences and our differences are huge. What never waivers is that I always pull over the car and take out the camera. Unlike anywhere else I have lived, I stop for a moment to be reminded that I am very small. I sit and watch as though I’m seeing something sacred.

Sometimes, I think I am.


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