Tuesday November 19, 2019

Faint mist in the woods as last night’s frost burns off in the sun. At the edge of the meadow, birds scold something hidden in the weeds.


  1. Good Morning, James. This is lovely. I am almost there, watching those birds.


    1. Hi Doreen. I’m not sure who James is, but I’m glad this resonated with you. Thanks for stopping by.


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