The lane on a summer misty morning is full of surprises..
I call this the spooky forest
The brook is fogbound and mysterious.
And as the sun burns through, the last wisps of mist rising up from the wildflower meadow.
The other morning there was a sudden cacophony up above. A ragged bunch of crows were chasing off a hawk. It perched for a while on a tree, regaining its dignity....
Then thought better of it and flapped off, disgruntled. Were they chasing it from their territory or their nests? Or were they just unsuccessful muggers?