Eighth Summer in Maine – Part II

Foggy days are my favorite time in Stonington.  It is quiet, gray, water rises and fall, fog rolls in and out; everything is so poetic and mysterious.  Friday was one of those days.  I went back to my favorite ledge in the morning.  I remember while setting up my easel, there was not much to see.  Fog has enveloped most of the surroundings.  However, it was not dense and it kept on changing like someone playing peek-a-boo.  I loved every minute of it.