Dripping with morning dew, these silken webs are at their most luminous. Later they fade into dry vegetation, invisible again. Damp and dark they shimmer on the branches, woven art works hanging between the gorse and the brambles. Sometimes they are stretched . . .
".....let that great sweeping wind blow the fog out of her soul..." L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables) It's biting cold. Our first proper frosty morning, with a nice dollop of fog to boot. Layering up, I tip toe out into the . . .
This morning, the beauty of another day. Small things, coffee, toast, silence. And how amazing is fruit? Having choice? Banana or blueberry? Egg or beans........? The sun in the east, the full moon setting in the west. The faintest pastel pink in the sky at the horizon. The same view . . .
When you are out there early in the morning, you see things. Mostly you see the usual things but once in a while nature surprises. These tiny rainbows within rainbows are a combination of dawn light, frosty dew and gorse spikes. Moments later, as the sun comes up, the . . .