About a month ago, on a mild day, the fishman and I took a hike not far from our house.
Most of the snow from November had melted--leaving the trails slightly muddy and soft with autumn leaves ... although firm enough for an easy walk.
The park where we hiked is a familiar place, which I've featured on the blog many times. On this day, however, it seemed eerily different. A thick layer of fog shrouded everything in a mysterious haze, which was pleasing in its own way.
The fishman started out ahead of me, and called my attention to two raptors, high up in the trees ahead of us.
As we approached, the fog lifted a touch. The fishman thought perhaps the birds were juvenile bald eagles.
They flew away before I could zoom in. Drat. Still, it was fun to see them--even from a distance through the mist.
As we started along the trail, we found this hole at the base of a gnarled old tree. It had me wondering who lived there.
Dogwoods (Cornus sericea) were plentiful, lending accents of deep red to the bleak landscape.
And dropping fresh dew on this magical, misty day.
Several evergreen plants poked through the soil--including sedges, mosses, and False Rue Anemone (Enemion biternatum)--reminders of new life waiting patiently for the next season.
But the most dramatic scenes were those overlooking the lake, where the ice, land, and sky blended cooperatively to confuse the eye.
(This post is linked to Michelle's "Nature Notes" at her blog, Rambling Woods.)
