Fog in the holler

Chilly rain all last night. Gray light this morning; we were socked in with fog and stayed that way all day. Tree bark black and wet, the leaves dripping. Forecast says we probably won't even break 60 degrees tomorrow at our elevation.

Nevertheless, I've always like gray, chilly, wet days. It's not autumn yet, but it feels like it. Leaves of poison ivy and Virginia creeper and staghorn sumac, also dogwood, beech and walnut reddening, yellowing, falling to the ground.

My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

--Robert Frost, "My November Guest"