The leftovers of autumn are all that remain.
The blue pot bamboo bottle tree gets more attention in the barren time. It's bone structure stands out.
Mist washes over the mountain first in one direction, before switching after the passage.
I drove south into the mist of November for my cousin's funeral. There is no way of knowing what time it really is for me.
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5 comments:
You sound a little melancholy. Try to remember the happy and not the sad
It has been foggy here almost daily. The Witch of November has been around.
Don't loose hope. All will be better later. The 26th of this month is coming too soon for me.
That last photo is breathtaking.
All is well. This time of year right after my mom leaves always gets to me. Adding in a dead cousin didn't help.
CC I liked that picture enough to get it printed and framed.
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