Misty Evening

We are rich in love, land and harvest. We’re also rich in our surroundings.

Sometimes, the earth and sky take over. I find myself transfixed at the east window in my dining room, watching the moon rise above the trees. Or a fog creeps in and everything mundane becomes mysterious. Sometimes, there’s nothing to do but stand still and look, or walk out in it and let it take you away from all the synthetic details of the day. I don’t own this place. It owns me.

~Scienda

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3 comments

    1. No kidding. :) There is a song from Newfoundland (called New-found because it’s constantly reappearing from the pea-soup Atlantic fogs) about the horror and terror of moose on the highway in the misty night.

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