Morning in NFLD

It rained yesterday and over night. Now the fog weaves through the trees and obscures the sky. This place is for earth and water. For grounding and flowing.  At the moment I am sitting on the porch listening to the drip drop of water drops from the earlier shower. A confirmation that the world is here and solid.  Tiny birds flit in, out, and through the spruce tree, their song a unexpected balance to the harsh calls of the jays and crows.
Each fence cap is draped with spider webs as if there was a grand ball throughout the night and the ladies left their jewels when the nights magic was over.
Fall snuck in through the fog and the rain. I know now that there is more than green needles in the woods as the gradient golds and red leaves appear as if the world truly was a stage and the spruce and pine were the curtains.

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