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Soft Fog

Nature stepped quietly into the end of the year, wrapped in a sleepy drizzle that turned to fog before it touched the ground.

The landscape looks unreal under the powdery mist, soothed by balmy air too warm for December, under the blanket of silent skies.

The garden settled into a comfortable charming mess, as it is fitting for the end of a season, but the perennials didn’t bother to go dormant. They are working hard to build up their starch reserves before the hard freeze kills their aerial parts.

There is a scent of humus and mushrooms in the breeze, and spring greenery and pollen. I saw daffodil blades poke through the ground; it doesn’t feel like winter at all.

True winter doesn’t start until early January, but it doesn’t feel like fall either. Maybe we’re looking at a fifth season.

It is strange to see bare branches when the weather is so warm. I expect tree buds any moment now.

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