I looked out my kitchen window this morning to see the backyard shrouded in fog. It was all sorts of magical, and after I took my kids to the school bus stop I rambled on, down to the beach, which was silent, empty, and eerily beautiful.
Away from the sand, the air was soft with moisture and drops of water clung to my hair and the leaves. Spider webs were silvered with dew. It was very quiet.
It was one of those magical, m(i)stical times, when the world seems to stop turning and the breath of the earth is suspended in a spider’s web. There was nothing but the sound of dripping water on damp leaves, and the sound of my muffled footsteps.