January seems to be slogging along in a dreary, fog shrouded manner. I have found the hope of spring in small buds on trees. Pussy willows perhaps? Crocuses are appearing above of the mud.
The fog adds resonance to even the tiniest sounds but the coyotes' high pitched calls carried further than normal last night and woke everyone in the house. I'm sure they were not right outside my window, but it sounded as if they were.
When it's misty, the dew clings to spiderwebs and makes them visible. I imagined a little elf walking the web as if it was a tightrope. I think he is a circus entertainer and he is performing for an audience of gnomes, fairies and woodland creatures. It looks difficult, but if he falls, the spider web will catch him. His name is Webster.
No comments:
Post a Comment