The hills were bracken-brown and the various conifers in the woods were dripping. And it was cold...but the sun was out and the horizons delicious, as always.
The mist was rising from the lake as we descended the trail, and there was a thin and sparkling cover of ice. We were 'alone and palely loitering'. But the birds were singing. And still they sing...
This afternoon? This afternoon I am planting acorns...
