I take the dirt road out of town, through woods and fog, past stone walls half-hidden, slowly overtaken by brambles and moss. Mist hangs in the air around me, obscuring the definitions of things so that they are felt more than seen. Colors are soft and muted; silver-blue sky blends delicately into a silvery-green meadow, silver-barked trees look leafless and glowing, semi-obscured by the mist. The mist rises from the earth and settles in from above - one can't tell from which direction it originates, only that it meets everywhere and everything becomes part of everything else.
Posted by shreve at 3:22 PM