 The fog has stories to share here in the Hill Country. Like a mysterious character from a novel, the fog enters a scene and transforms my sense of place, alters my perspective ever so slightly. In the winter and early spring, fog is a frequent visitor. When it appears, I set out to capture it with my camera or sit down with pen and paper. The rest of the day can wait. This morning along Purgatory Road, a place whose name alone captures my imagination, the fog cast a ghostly aura over the landscape. Leafless trees, like skeletons, jumped into focus around every bend. Vultures descended on the roadside to investigate a deer carcass. A fox darted in front of the car, causing my heart to race.
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