Fog bound

It was time to check the trees on the far side of the Reserve... so I drove out in the grey and ran down the track in the mysterious world of mist.

The cobwebs made beds for the fog. Places where water rests between it's eternal journeys between sky and earth.

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I settled down near the happy oak tree, whom I selected as a Sentinel because it had all this strange epicormic growth. I describe the tree as "happy" because its health has been improving since the hawthorns around it had been cut.

Though this isn't a pretty place, there was a certain magic in the mist. And a squirrel came to inspect me. The birds busily commented on the day all around me.

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In between the pine trees, autumn leaves shone despite the the low light of the shrouded day.

I made a quick visit to Minerva. That third picture, with the framework of branches, illustrates, to me, the essence of this tree.

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I watched a buzzard, distancing herself from me, land in a tree further away, to be pursued by mobbing corvids, who perched around her and attacked. She fled again and the jackdaws came to roost in a closer tree.

The lake was invisible.

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On the way back to the car, I heard a host of birds chattering in a distant stand of trees. I don't know who they were... I am imagining migrants recently returned from their summer quarters.