February 11-the view

Thick fog rolls in wisps across the semi-frozen lake. The lake itself liquid silver where rain and snow run-off form puddles and rivets across the ice. Patches of snow sit stark white on banks of green brown grass. The trees themselves browns and blacks at once hidden and revealed by mist. Sublimating snow rolls off the banks and over the lake like a fog machine gone wild. All is quiet. The birds have yet to return somehow knowing that this thaw, this fog, will turn to ice and bitter cold by the evening. But for now-colors of brown and green sit boldly among the blacks and silvers hinting at the season to come.