Cover

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Title Page, Frontispiece, Copyright, Dedication

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Contents

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Foreword

Andrew Sansom

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pp. ix-x

I have the almost indescribable privilege of working each day in a space that was once the honeymoon suite of the famous old Aquarena Springs hotel in San Marcos, Texas. From the windows on two sides of the room is the stunning view of Spring Lake, the headwaters of the San Marcos River.
For me, that view is most sensational on cold winter days when a ribbon of fog rises out of the crystal-clear spring waters of the lake and winds its way downstream from the source...

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Preface

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pp. xi-xii

Fog, as we learned in earth science in elementary school, is formed when water vapor condenses into tiny water droplets in the air. Essentially, it is a cloud close to the ground.
While the cause of fog is no mystery, fog still manages to be mysterious. Artists, novelists, and filmmakers have long used its shroud to create a sense of foreboding. Sherlock Holmes would not be the same character if he was sleuthing on a sunny beach.
There...

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Acknowledgments

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pp. xiii-xvi

Shannon Davies’s mind is never still, but when the wheels speed up, projects are set in motion. This book got started before the last one was finished. As I submitted the complete set of photos for Hillingdon Ranch: Four Seasons, Six Generations, I commented, “I’ve got some other fog images that are really nice, but we already have enough for this book.”
Without hesitation, Shannon, who is now the editor-in-chief at Texas A&M University...

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Notes on the Photography

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pp. xvii-xx

I have spent a lot of my time behind the camera photographing wildlife and livestock. I did not think anything could be more challenging than a wily white-tailed buck or a cantankerous prize-winning bull, but then I set out to capture fog. Fog is fickle. There one minute and gone the next. Fog is unpredictable. Weather forecasts mean nothing. But to this photographer, fog alters landscapes, raising them to a different level of beauty. Being an eyewitness...

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Introduction

Rick Bass

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pp. 1-10

The country of my heart, or the first country of my heart, lies little farther than a stone’s throw from here; a hawk that in the morning kills a squirrel at Hillingdon could well by mid-afternoon be perched on the limb of an oak tree here, clutching a cottontail. I know this country in all its seasons and weathers, know its shapes and scents so well that it seems these pictures could have been taken from deep files in my mind that I barely remember, or...

Photo Gallery

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pp. 11-128

Bibliography

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pp. 129-131

Other Works in the Series, Back Cover

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