It’s a misty morning here in Seattle. I woke up late, with that limp, relaxed don’t-have-to-do-a-goddamned-thing-today feeling. I spent a leisurely hour reading the paper at the breakfast table, sipping tea, looking at this view of the ravine:
Then, putting the dirty dishes in the sink I looked out of the back kitchen window and saw my favourite bush positively glowing in the weird light:
Just a bit beyond the bush is the tree I photographed a zillion times before. It has two leaves hanging on. I suspect they might hang on all winter. But just in case they don’t:
And finally, just so the front of the house doesn’t feel left out:
I’ll resize all these and put them up on A View of One’s Own (we have dozens of things up there now, some of them quite lovely).
Later, after lunch, we’re planning to watch Descent. That should banish the lazy, misty feelings…
Nicola Griffith 
Lovely photos, the one of the ravine and the mist has such a sense of foreboding. It is a blustery and rainy day, we have had company since Thursday and we are just straightening out the house now that everyone has gone home. I just want to sit for a few hours, catch up on my reading and get ready for the week. Enjoy the movie.
I love mist. It makes everything, anything feel possible. It’s magic. It’s like imagination made visible.
To me it is a mixture of emotions, it can be very frightening, secretive and mysterious. It can also be beautiful, the way mist distorts the light and throws off shadows. I love it early in the morning, at night it gives me the chills.
I think the mist is kind of mysterious – yes, holds possibilites. I don’t think I realized how much I liked it until I experienced so much of it back in February.I enjoyed the new pix. I’m trying to orient myself with the different times for the ravine shots. There are three – sept, nov, and now the more recent nov. I’ve been trying to make out how close to the same angle they are. It blows me away how different it looks now. I guess I’ve been in so cal too long. It seemed to happen so quickly. This photo seems tighter – more zoomed in, but is that really the same spot? What happened to all of that green stuff??
rory, at night I prefer full-on fog. I love not being able to see my hand in front of my face. Eerie and delicious. But we don’t get much fog around here.jennifer, that pic was taken with me pointing the camera up a little so that I could catch the mist in the tops of the trees. And, yep, the shots vary depending on whether the deck is dry/wet and/or I’m wearing shoes or not. This morning I opened the door and stood in the doorway rather than actually walking out onto the deck. Also I did the zoom thing. Annoying, I know, for comparative purposes but, hey, I’m a writer :) We’re wilful that way.And wait til you start seeing the spring pix; it’s astonishing how suddenly the green comes back…
That will be cool to see, but spring seems a long way off at the moment. Right now, I’m just waiting to see the salmon and the eagles.
Ah, here in New York I've been battling with, & I hate to say it so but– “cold November rain.” I had to buy socks yesterday so when I got to my destination I could have dry feet!
It’s snowing and blowing to beat the band in Wisconsin. I put on my sleeping bag coat(filled with down, covers me fom head to foot) and went out. The air was fiercely sweet and clean. I felt like a million frozen bucks.
jennifer, at some point I can guarantee pix of salmon but I’m much (much) less sanguine about the eagles. I’ll do my best though.mordicai, barbara, after a night of thick (but curiously inconstant) mist, it’s a brilliant morning here in Seattle: hard blue sky and the conifers looking as green as the First Tree might have.
Well, I’m more sanguine about it than you are. Unless they don’t show up. Just a glimpse…
Went to the park this a.m. I saw one dead salmon and heard the tell-tale *sploosh* of another but couldn’t see it. So they’re coming…