A Foggy Feast
Making the crossing from Papa Stronsay to Stronsay for Mass.
The Stronsay village of Whitehall where our chapel is.
Arrived at the Stronsay pier. The Brothers ascend the pier steps.
Looking back towards Papa Stronsay, which risks being swallowed up by the mist.
"The chalice of benediction, which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ?...
...And the bread, which we break, is it not the partaking of the body of the Lord?" 1 Cor 10:16
"In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it." John 1:4-5
Papa Stronsay as it looks while I write this post. The Fog has really come in.
Standing almost on the water's edge you can only just make out the pier with our boat.
And out towards nearby Stronsay...nothing.
Lovely










Comments
And, in the many areas of the tributaries, such as the Wasipinicon River, fog is a given in the Autumn and in January and February. Can you imagine a tributary 300 miles long? I know these areas like the back of my hand.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/42977075@N02/3965005020/in/photostream/
I love fog. It always made me feel like Mary was wrapping her great mantle of peace and innocence over us all. Have a great day.
http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/american-eagle/the-upper-mississippi-river-valley/4203/