Go Fish Galvez

Fog at Vinnie's, too?

With a starry starry Don McLean melody wafting up softly from a distant, subconscious place, I sat out on my front porch at a tiny hour the other night, just to marvel at the deep, silent fog that the warm Gulf waters had exhaled over the island, enveloping it in a dense and ghostly mist.

There is, I submit, a palpable magic to this fog.

Strictly speaking, of course, my best friend Science would opine, rightly, that it’s merely a matter of deadened acoustics and limited visibility that makes the fog a trifle unsettling to the human heart. But to the artist, the philosopher, to that wee-houred front-porch rocking-chair thinker, it is, perhaps, something more enigmatic. Read the rest of this entry »