Misty Winter Dawn

Yesterday morning, in the most soft and subtle mist, almost no landscape; yet the sliver, slice, softness of the sunrise, all orange and delicious, over the tangled Winter hedges..
If I could capture this in cloth, I would be truly satisfied..

Walking home after the rain..

..actually, hail, thunder, lightning, and big big winds.

So this evening I walked home along the lane, and the smell, sort of mushroomy and growing; and warm and not-quite-dark, not-quite-light feel to the air, was wonderful. It's a magical time of night, when all is quiet, the day is almost done and there is a supper to cook and a cat to fuss, and life is almost not-too-bad after all..
A line from Joni Mitchell runs in my head as I walk
..death and birth and death and birth and death and birth...
I washed out my rusted cloth batch today, and hung it out about 5 minutes before the rains came.  So it's nicely rinsed, at least..

On the corner the twigs washed along by the rain made an image of the force of the water

As I came into the front garden (mostly I come to the back) I noticed that the wonky cotinus tree that we took out last year has regenerated

And this leaf was the most astonishing red in the wet grass

Now perhaps, I shall start to sew