A Defense of Smoky Gray

In the "everything store" world, gray is often treated as a void. It is the color of boredom, of indecision, or of the corporate cubicles I’ve spent a career trying to navigate.

But here, at Fog and Fable, gray is our primary currency. Specifically, Smoky Gray.

We are currently in the season of the Snow Moon. It is a time defined by a specific kind of light—the flat, low-contrast gray of a sky that is too heavy with unfallen snow to show the sun. To the unobservant, this color looks like nothing. To us, it is the color of the veil.

Gray is the color of the "in-between."

It is the mist that clings to the Wiltshire hills, blurring the lines between the road and the field. It is the shadow that sits between the "no longer" and the "not yet." In my writing and in this business, I’ve realized that most of the interesting things happen in that blurred space.

The Snow Moon doesn't demand the high-contrast clarity of summer. It asks us to get comfortable with the fog. It asks us to look at a gray sky and realize that just because we can’t see the horizon doesn't mean we aren't moving toward it.

If your world feels a bit smoky right now—if you are moving through the days with a sense of "barely surviving" rather than "thriving"—look at the sky. There is a quiet, refined power in being exactly where you are, even when the view is obscured.

The light will sharpen soon enough. For now, the gray is enough.