A tuft of fog is suspended just above. Cotton batting I could almost touch. Now it moves like a flock of grey sheep quietly relocating from one field to another.

I am endlessly fascinated by fog. It possesses its own particular beauty. Sometimes, it blots out, but often softens and blurs, the landscape. It creates a mood that can be mysterious and peaceful at the same time.

It is the beginning of a thrilling tale. It is the reason to light a warming fire.

Cool and yet cozy.

In San Francisco, some share this appreciation. Their fog is named Karl, a name that took hold after a Twitter account @KarlTheFog popped into existence in August 2010.

Karl creeps over the mountains from the sea, flowing down the ridge lines and canyons until he spreads over the Peninsula like a blanket.

San Francisco photographer Michael Shainblum captures this in his beautiful work. One of his collections is called A Symphony of Fog. He writes: “San Francisco is famous for its foggy climate. The fog in the bay area appears to act independently, occasionally disrupting sunny days and darkening the sky. People have mixed feelings about the fog. Some find it inconvenient and depressing, while others embrace its unpredictable nature.

The fog almost feels like a living creature with a mind of its own.

Regardless of ground-level opinions, the view from above reveals the fog’s stunning beauty. This collection pays homage to this remarkable fog and showcases its magnificent allure. The fog has essentially become a living part of San Francisco’s identity.”

Fog raises all kinds of questions. Why does it hug the shore like the Berlin wall during California summers?  And why does it move inland at some points but not at others? One beach is sunny and another is shrouded. If I could touch that wisp above my head, what would it feel like?

Now that I have moved to the Central Coast of California, I am enjoying fog in a new way. I am still endlessly fascinated.