FOWC with Fandango: Mist

Feldbrunnen to Langendorf 28.10 (14)

We have so many misty days where I live, I even have a photo file with the name of mist. It usually happens in Autumn originating from the local River Aare. Of course this is mist for amateurs. It is a collection of moisture, clean moisture. You can breathe the air, no danger.

Water Spray 14.05.2019

Here someone was cleaning something with high pressure water, also misty.

I am diverging. I grew up in London, born in 1946 and we were the professionals in knowing mist, although my memories of mist are more of smog. Smog was a result of clouds produced by industry, chemical and probably full of sulphur. Smog was yellow, deep intensive yellow. I would walk to school during the fifties. Luckily I knew the way as sight was reduced and you had to fight your way through a thick yellow curtain. I am sure if I had a knife I could have cut pieces out of the smog, it was so thick. I remember it had a smell, a smokey smell. Eventually I would arrive at school and cleared my nose with a handkerchief leaving black sooty deposits on the cloth, blown out of my nose. I would add that since this time, The Brits did something about it and eventually forbid using coal for heating, which was the main culprit.

Mist in Switzerland is something completely different. It even has its aesthetic side.

Clouds 20.12 (2)

FOWC with Fandango: Mist

Daily Prompt: Pick your gadget – again

Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?

On 21.05.2014 (Pick your gadget 21.05.2014I had a discussion with Mr. Swiss in the local electronic store about a method to ensure my disappearance. I decided I will stay where I am and do not need magical things. In the meanwhile it seems that Mr. Swiss had second thoughts and was waiting patiently until this prompt arrived again. How did he know that it would arrive again, of course he knew, they all arrive again. So I awoke in the morning to find a large door with a cloud design in the kitchen. It was tied around with a big blue bow and a label saying “with love – have fun”. This time I could not resist and decided to take the chance. I was worried if I did not, this prompt would be dished up again in a year.

I untied the bow and opened the door.

Walk in the mist Feldbrunnen

I had probably forgotten to clean my glasses, but no, this was the real thing, I was in a misty place and could only see outlines. Of course, my curiosity was aroused, there is nothing like groping your way through a thick fog after opening a door. It was a silent mist, all noises were suppressed. I decided to move on, perhaps I might find some light.

Walk in the mist Feldbrunnen

I could see the outlines of a path. Paths always lead somewhere, so what could possibly go wrong. I was sure that eventually the sun would shine, although perhaps I was in a place where sun did not shine.I decided never trust doors especially if they are bought in the local electronics store. That guy who worked there was always a suspicious type. I did not like the way he laughed and smiled when he saw you, his two overlarge pointed corner teeth protruding over the bottom lip and I have a distinct dislike against people with red eyes.

“Hello” I called but there was no answer. I was the only living person in this place and then I saw a figure looming out of the mist: a very tall figure.

St. Kathrinen Cemetery

I was sure it was a women, although it could have been a man dressed as a woman. She had her back to me and was staring at an empty bench. I was now exhausted from my walk in the mist and my hair had begun to curl, due to the dampness of the air. I had never had curls, so always look on the positive side of things. It would have cost a fortune at my local hairdresser to have a perm, and now I was getting it for nothing. Perhaps it was all part of the wonderful surprise door.

I am drifting. I was tired and so moved towards the bench.

“Hello lady, do you mind if I sit here?”

She did not turn around to see me and there was no answer, she was still staring at the bench.

“Hello, I would like to sit here, is it OK?”

I heard a creaking sound. It reminded me of my joints in the morning when I arise. The figure was turning in my direction. I was glad as it was not my joints, but the joints belonging to the figure. She pointed towards the bench and made a strange laugh. I could then see her face, so I decided I would not sit on the bench. Ladies that have eyes with no colour, just a white disc, were not my idea of something human, and I did not like her teeth. They were very pointed. She pointed in my direction and took a step. She pushed me onto the bench.

“Ok, lady, you could have said take a seat.”

This lady was not talking, she was a person of actions. It was when she opened her mouth and approached my arm I decided to go. i ran as fast as I could, shouting for help and saw my rescue. There was an ambulance parked and it seemed to be waiting. All its lights were switched on, as far as I could see in the mist.

Walk in the mist Feldbrunnen

“Look Joe, another one.”

“Yes Fred, looks like that that guy at the electronics store was having a good day with the turnover yesterday.”

“I think those doors were selling like hot cakes. They were half price. Amazing the people that believe they are getting a bargain, just  because it was cheap.”

“I just feel sorry for the ones that didn’t make it. They are either still searching for some light in the fog, or that statue got them.”

“Yea, too bad. You mean the statue that lives every time someone asks if they can sit on the bench.”

I was rescued, although Joe and Fred seemed a strange couple, they both had six fingers on each hand, or perhaps I was seeing double. They even had three sixes on their jackets, must be some sort of rescue team.

“OK Mrs.” Joe asked, “just take it easy, we will bring you to safety”Luckily your Mr. Swiss paid extra for the return journey.”

“You mean he knew all about this.”

“Of course, he said you like some excitement.”

It was only when I saw some light that I felt safe, although the light seemed to have risen up from the ground suddenly like an elevator.

Walk in the mist Feldbrunnen

Daily Prompt: Pick your Gadget – again

Excitement on a misty Autumn morning

Pampas on a misty Autumn morning

Crockery rattling in the kitchen
The smell of coffee in my nose
So get up and begin the day
Struggle to the kitchen in slippers and dressing gown
Look through the window to see if the day is worth it
My first thought “it’s Autumn”
The pampas grass in the garden showing its plumes bravely
A background of bushes
An then …..
It had arrived, the Autumn mist
Swirling its fingers over the landscape
Climbing up the banks of the River Aar and reaching the garden
forming the theater drapes and stage curtains

Forget the coffee, forget the dressing gown
Just one thought
This must be fixed in my memory
Grab the camera, open the window
Worried that the mist might disappear
Or perhaps the pampas would sink its heads
Be quick, snap this moment
And afterwards
I poured my milk on the cereal,
Dropped a tea bag in a cup of boiling water
I was relaxed
Knowing that my Autumn morning was safe

Das Nebelmeer (Sea of Fog)

It feels good to be back home again. I suppose it was my own fault really. I did not have to leave my valleys and hills and live in a town where the first breath of fresh air in the morning through the window was the exhaust fumes from a passing lorry. Jack said marry me and I will take you places. He did, but we only got as far as London. London sounded so good. I thought if the Queen lives in London then it must be something special.

Jack did not come from the same part of London as the Queen. We have a river in my home town in Switzerland, and so does London. London’s river did not look quite as clean and clear as the river fed by the mountain streams in my home village, but Jack loved the River Thames. He grew up in that part of London so knew really nothing different. He had a good job and we could live in one of those newly built houses in the area the Londoners called the Docklands, the River Thames just passing at the bottom of the road. Jack’s problem was that he thought he, well, sort of owned me. I felt so homesick in London, longing for my mountains and the damp air full of scents from the meadows and the forests.

Waking up in my old room here in Switzerland is what I yearned for. Time to get some breakfast, my mother called. Fresh croissants with butter and a nice cup of coffee will be waiting on the table, no more cups of tea. Jack always had to have his tea for breakfast, after dinner and in the evening.

Yesterday was a beautiful day. I had to get out and breathe again so took a walk up our local mountain. We have a chair lift, but I wanted to feel the old familiar path under my feet and see the wild flowers growing at the sides of the paths. I could smell the scent of the wild garlic in the forest. It was Spring and would soon be time to gather the leaves for cooking with our meals. You can only eat it when it is fresh. Later on when the leaves begin to age and get tough they become poison for the body.

My stepfather’s death was caused by a tragic accident. He went to the woods early in the morning to pick some fresh wild garlic leaves for my mother to make a soup in the evening. He brought the fresh green young leaves and put them in the kitchen. Mother and my stepfather decided to visit my grandparents on that day and I was left on my own at home. At the age of 12 I was old enough to look after myself. The wild garlic leaves smelt so fine that I decided to mix them into my food for my lunch. I then remembered that they were for a soup in the evening and in the afternoon I gathered some more leaves to replace them.

It seemed I had picked some older leaves and my mother’s wild garlic leaf soup was not so good for my stepfather. He had a stomach ulcer and unfortunately did not survive after eating the soup. My mother was also ill, but soon recovered. Luckily I was visiting my friend that evening, otherwise I might have eaten from the soup as well. Of course there was an court examination, but how was my mother to know that the leaves were no longer fit for cooking. After my stepfather’s death my mother inherited his wealth and property and we both lived in his chalet.

And then Jack came into my life, one of the English tourists that come to Switzerland to see the mountains.  I would often take a walk on the path at the end of the road leading to the mountain and show him all the flora and fauna we had. His problem was vertigo and when we eventually climbed out of the mist he would look back on the sea of fog and had to sit on a bench for a few moments to regain his balance. Poor Jack, he just was not cut out for life in the mountains and so we went to his homeland to live after the marriage. I soon found out that I was not suited to life in town, but now I have that behind me.

My mother said I would probably be lucky and see the sea of fog from the top of our local mountain if I wanted to take a walk. It was Spring and the damp air rose from the ground and formed the mist.  The “Nebelmeer” as we know it (the Londoners only have fog) is usually caused by low lying clouds. Beneath the clouds the towns and villages are dark and dreary and may even have rain, but taking a walk up a mountain can be compared with an aeroplane flight. At a certain point on the way the air clears and there is sunshine. If you look back you are confronted with a sea of fog which looks almost compact and solid. In the evenings when the sun is descending it reflects on the mist which resembles the glimmer of a fire.

Of course I had problems explaining to my mother why I suddenly arrived at her doorstep two days ago with my suitcase and no Jack. I said I was spending some time at home as I was feeling so homesick for my country and Jack realised that it would do me good to return for a few days. Well that was what I told my mother and she believed me. I have now been home for three days and she was wondering why Jack did not call, but I told them that our telephone connection was being repaired at home, If anything would happen he would be sure to contact me.

I decided to go again to the mountain yesterday evening, but this time took the chair lift, riding through the Nebelmeer up to the heights to clear my head a bit. When I got back home it was time for dinner. My mother was just serving the meal and there was a ring at the door. The local police asked for me. I had to sit down when they brought the bad news. There had been an accident. We cooked with gas in London, as most London homes, and there must have been a gas leak somewhere. It was difficult to find out why, but there was an explosion and the house existed no longer, and neither did Jack. Examinations showed that the gas had been leaking slowly and probably Jack had decided to light a cigarette causing the explosion.

My flight to London went on time and I booked in at a hotel.

Today was Jack’s funeral. His family were there and it was very sad. They shook my hand and offered their condolences, and I cried a few tears – almost genuine. The family did not like me and I never did feel very comfortable with them.

I arrived home yesterday too tired to write in my diary. There was nothing to keep me in London. Today I took another stroll through the mist to the top of the mountain, sat down on a bench and thought things over. It is really astonishing what a small twist on a gas pipe with a spanner can do. Just a small one, I mean no-one notices the gas leak and as we all know English gas does not smell.

I just love the Swiss mountains and the Nebelmeer. You can leave the dark and dreary towns behind you and climb into the fresh air where the sun is always shining and life is just perfect.