Locking the house this morning when leaving for work, we were serenaded by the male Tawny Owl (who is affectionately called Mr Hootie by Himself). The owl was mournfully hoo hoo hoooooo-ing in the tree at the bottom of the garden. We'd heard Mrs Hootie (she trills back a shrill kewick) roughly a week or so ago, but nothing since.
The mist swirled around the house, clinging thickly around the lights along the road out of the village. It was still dark and murky by the time I arrived at work, the inky black sky was now a deep rich purple fringed by a silvery brume. The park, usually brought to life by dog walkers and bird song was subdued and muffled. I took my cellphone and snapped a couple of photos.
I returned to the Coach House and was struck how 'Dickensian' the buildings looked in the early morning gloom. The mist didn't fully lift all day, with a few teasing flashes of blue sky about midday however they soon slipped away as the mist returned.It clung to everything, dampening eyelashes and decorating spider webs with sparkling gems of condensation.And, despite my longing for light and sun and warmth, today was rather beautiful in it's silvery opaque shades.
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