Whimsical memories of the Lady of the Mist come from my imaginative childhood.
I remember sometimes thick ropes of mist would visibly move through the trees of the forest next to our home. The mist would daintily coil above fields, and tiptoe through the blueberry bushes. Sometimes I thought I saw a lovely woman with soft trailing draperies wafting to and fro, in a silent elegant dance.
As an adult, my imagination is alive and well. Early summer mornings, I sometimes catch the Lady of the Mist gracefully twirling over the ripples of the river near where I live. I once watched her whisping through a grove of oak trees, murmering to a flock of sheep sheltering there.
Except for the sheep (who are huddled out of sight in the thicket) this Pen and Ink is my imaginative rendition of The Lady of the Mist softly dancing among the towering oak trees