A windy path lined with fallen leaves leads to our small river. Everywhere you look, shades of green and brown.
It’s warmed up outside– at least 10 degrees. Even so, the small pools of water are still frozen. Reticent to thaw.
The rocks are dry. It hasn’t rained in days. But step beneath the surface and the silt is slippier than a banana peel. Lots of good stuff growing under there. Next time, I’ll collect a sample for the microscope. The kids will get a kick out of that.
The water is lower than last week and moving fast. It’s practically crystal clear–I can see every stone and boulder.
A thick fog has settled into the area. The world feels ethereal, like King Arthur and his knights might ride through at any minute.