Somewhere The World Is Busy And There Is Lots Of Noise

This is what I see when I go out to get my paper in the morning. Trees like this. And today, as you can perhaps tell, it is so foggy that it's as if a warm, moist blanket of quiet were laid over everything here in Lloyd.
The trees seem to be reaching up into the blanket's source and gathering dampness on all their limbs and the resurrection fern which grows on those limbs is glowing green, even in the fog.

It's the first Monday after the holidays and I feel like maybe now life can get back to itself. We can put aside all that hysterical the-world-is-ending-so-let's-party-up-and-eat-all-the-sugar-and-store-it-all-in-fat-so-we-can-survive-the-long-hard-winter-before-us bullshit.
That sort of thinking may have served the Pagans well but as far as I know, the Publix bakery NEVER runs out of cookies.

In a way, it would be appropriate if today were one of those winter bright-blue days. A day where you feel like you can get everything on your list done, propelled by sheer force of solar energy and great sky vibes.

But it's not. So we'll all just have to make our way through the quiet velvet of air so wet that the squirrels are probably all complaining about how they just can't do a thing with their hair. Silently.
Man, it's quiet. Even the roosters next door are silent. And the donkeys, too. No doodling, no heeing and hawing, no cockling at all.
Just the almost palpable sound of trees and plants inspiring and expiring the mist.

It's been the strangest winter here. We went from summer directly to winter, with freezing temperatures before December even got started and now it's been warm so long the dogwoods are starting to bud up and the little barn swallows are doing the real estate check on the back porch to pick out their nesting sights.
WE know it'll get cold again, but the plants and birds don't and I'm afraid they may be in for a shock and things are going to get nipped in the bud, quite literally.

And Mr. Moon and I saw several redbud trees in full flame yesterday in the woods when we walked.
I think I'll put on my walking rags right now and go see what those redbuds look like in this mist.
It's Monday. The holidays are over.
But glory- it's all right here. Still here. Wrapped in a quiet, warm dampness.
A sort of holy-day, right here on the fifth day of January in the new year and damn, I'll take a holy-day over a holiday any day.
Any day at all.