Morning.

In theory, I work for a half hour or less today, then cut out. I hope it does work that way. In the meanwhile, it's a glorious morning. I was reluctant to wake up but, now that I see the day, oh-so-glad I moved before I missed the earliest part of the morning.

I got to the computer room (which is where I brush my hair and noodle about on the net in the mornings) while it was still foggy and soft. Fog over the pasture, fog everywhere in soft masses so thick as to be shapeless, and hide the distant trees. I saw the sun rise through it, turning it to pale cream marbling in a long line.

That's past now, and the fog is a soft white wall at the edge of hte pasture, a paling of the grasses within it, a blur of grey where the distant trees are. The nearer treesare hard-edged against its softness, and they and everything around, the blackberries, the grass, are water-touched after the night's rain and the fog. There are birds, dark shapes, flirting rapidly through the trees. One arrowed across the sky, angling up from a taller tree, but the rest have been shyer.

( And, I missed the birds, but I got some photos. )