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.