Yesterday’s fog lifted, but it’s still overcast and misty. We walked in Lone Lake Park, and sat for a while in silence on a log near the edge of the lake.
We watched mallards cruising the shoreline, and listened to crows shouting behind us, but eventually they quieted down. A great blue heron flew overhead, beating its wings in slow motion. In the box elders around us, a gaggle of ruby-crowned kinglets
flitted about, taking a break from their long flight back to the north woods.
Across the lake, a light green mist still clung to the trees – new leaves. A breath of air moved so softly it was like a caress upon the water, air luxuriating in the sheer liquidness of the lake.