All this fog has been rather eerily beautiful, in its own muted way, but each dripping morning reminds me that being inside a fog bank is wet! The newly painted chicken house looks like some avant garde creation with streaky, dribbly paint where smooth colour should be. And this poor spider’s web was obviously not meant to bear the weight of all that water!
My parents had a similar problem when they retired in Ireland from the UK. They lived in a lovely cottage at the bottom of a Valley. The “fog” that swept over and remained longer in place than other parts of the valley – would seem to be suspended in midair – has it swelled and bulked all around it; the washing on the line would become soaking wet, the cobwebs the same as your photo portrays – and the straw and hay weighed so much it was enough to break the camels back – they sold up and returned to the UK!! Though saying that, it didn’t seem to concerned the hardy Irish folk who had come accustom to this early morning haze that would stay to almost mid-day before it fully cleared – in which on some days it never did!!
Your comment reminds me of the Carl Sandburg poem:
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
…on little cat feet; what a great description!
Hi there, lovely photo! 🙂 Poor spiders, the droplets expose their webs to all the flies everywhere. I remember Vancouver Island fog all too well – I spent some months in Nootka Sound in 2007. It didn’t make wildlife photography any easier but, as you say, it has its own eerie atmosphere.