TECHE SKETCHES: Fog instills haunting beauty

Published 12:00 am Sunday, January 26, 2020

It was impossible for me to say no to the fog.

Two weeks ago when this atmospheric condition settled in over our area I knew that it was time to grab my camera and look for photo ops in the countryside.

I must explain that I’ve never seen fog as either gloomy or something to be avoided but instead as a photographic blessing.

Because this semi-transparent veil has the magical quality of revealing details teasingly of whatever it surrounds, it can instill a haunting beauty in most images, particularly those that are black and white.

I was driving one morning heading to the Four Corners area in St. Mary Parish when I turned right on a side road and spotted an unfenced pasture.

In the distance creeping out of the fog was a seemingly abandoned dwelling.

The battered mailbox and the overgrown gravel driveway confirmed my suspicions.

After parking the car I started walking into the field.

The house floated toward me on a gigantic cloud of mist, a surreal vision mesmerizing me.

As I got closer the moist air became thinner, releasing from captivity more and more pieces of the image before me: a missing door, a sagging porch, and a tin roof whose lower left corner was twisted upward.

The structure appeared to be an elder neglected by uncaring kin.

To the right were two oaks, their tops still obscured by the unyielding fog.

Near the left of the house was a dying tree with a large broken limb still attached to the trunk.

Its slender branches on the ground looked like the extended fingers of some injured soul asking for help.

And just in front of the dwelling were the remnants of a small wooden fence with most of its slats broken and the pieces pointing everywhere … and nowhere.

The front entrance was missing its door as well as the hinges.

Curiously, however, the once bright brass-plated doorknob lay in a corner.

The orb was now covered with the suffocating patina of oblivion.

After stepping inside I realized that the empty house was rather large.

The spacious parlor led to a hallway that linked two more rooms.

The kitchen was in the rear.

The floors were still mostly intact but the partially shuttered windows kept the interior subdued.

Much of the ceiling in the front had collapsed, exposing the tin roof. Rusted spaces in the metal allowed some of the dim outside light to filter through, a welcome benediction of additional illumination.

Aided by my tripod I took some exposures of the parlor before finding a fairly clean area and sitting down.

Surrounding me were leaves and twigs, the playthings of the wind.

Nothing stirred.

And the only sounds were the raindrops from the mist, falling solemnly in a gentle lament for the aged place.

Despite the prevailing melancholy, I saw the former home as a defiant survivor, refusing to disappear until it was ready.

Like the limb outside clutching its tree trunk, this building still held on to the patch of earth on which it slumbered.

As I strolled away I looked back and noticed a much clearer view of the house.

The fog was dissipating.

O.J. GONZALEZ is a native and resident of Jeanerette. He graduated from USL in printmaking and photography and his photographs have appeared in publications in Louisiana, Alaska, Canada, New Zealand and England.