Bark, silvered
The air is taking on a definite chill, and there's downright genuine cold in the forecast for tomorrow with... gasp... that S-word. But this morning, it's merely touch-of-frosty, with the slightest hint of skim ice and odd lines of silver highlighting the remains of bark on a long-dead oak. Maybe it's a harbinger. Maybe the dire prediction is going to come true. For now, however, the sun is out and melting any notion of impending doom. If I didn't have so darn much writing to do, today would be a fine day for a long walk. Maybe next week...
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© Bruce Fellman