Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
It's a cold and damp Autumn day in the Adirondack mountains, the sharp air smelling of snow. Dead leaves scurry across the pavement as if they were frantic mice seeking escape from the talons of a diving hawk. A gentle rain falls, a quiet pitter-patter against the wooden deck, creating a sound as soothing as a mother's embrace. Maple trees, covered in pale, milky-green lichen, glisten in shadowless tangles of bare branches. Evergreen boughs shine like morning dew on blades of grass. Fields, mowed and harvested, are like patchwork quilts in shades of green and brown.