the rain has been the main character here on the hill. the other night trying to beat the downpour i found myself outside with a wrapped scarf of sorts and my wellies trying desperately to convince the chickens and ducks to retire for the night in the safety of their dry coop. as i closed the door to the coop which sits just at the forest gate, i could not help but feel compelled to grab my camera and take a walk into the foggy woods.
there is something so hauntingly beautiful about fog dancing through trees. the forest floor is covered with bright green ferns mingling with thick dark barks and contrasting branches it is all so lovely. you can't help feel as if magically you have been transformed from a person to an insect or a bird. sometimes i dream i have an old phonograph that i can bring with me, i would set it down on moss covered rock and play a symphony, let it serenade the ever so giving forest.
how i love seeing through the fog, everything looks like it comes from someone's brilliant imagination, yet i know it is all very real as i stare out to my horses. the fog finds itself as unexpected healer ƒor the soul and my heart suddenly feels very open...
* something about the picture of tolstoy(my big draft horse) makes my heart hurt
* splash my quarter horse is leaning, he has a very big belly he is an easy keeper