Naked branches and a grey-white sky. The last frost-wrinkled apples clinging to a November tree.
Dream-black crows foraging.
Puddles reflecting the drowsy, winter-ready trees.
Surprises underfoot.
A beech tree, still holding onto many of its copper leaves. Up in the top, a ball of mistletoe.
And more mistletoe.
And more. This cluster just close enough to see its translucent, creamy-yellow-white berries. The season is changing. A mantle of quiet darkness and introspection settles over everything. Winter is coming.
How lovely.
ReplyDeleteI know mistletoe is an opportunist and not good for the trees, but I just love it anyway.
I agree, Em. There is something about mistletoe, isn't there? It's no wonder that it shows up in so many legends and folk beliefs. From the supposed "Golden Bough" of Aeneas, to the dart that shot Frigga's son Balder, to protection against fire and witchcraft. It's an amazing little plant, neither earth nor air borne. (I have heard that it's not as damaging to its host as once thought - I do hope that's true!)
ReplyDeleteThanks for signing on Kit and Kaboodle! I tried to contact you via the Blogger contact thingie, but wasn't able to. (I keep hoping that having this blog will help improve my computer skills. Not happening.) I hope that you enjoy my ramblings and photos and - to come - occasional scraps of short stories on this blog.
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Lynn.