in the mist
March 1, 2012
On the Devon coast, the sea mist just sat around all day. Standing in a garden, thinking about the problems that needed solving, the misty context of the line of oaks and the layers beyond was seductive . . .
. . . . and then focusing on the task in hand, studying the trees surrounding the garden and within . . . . the best time of the year to engage with these beauties . . .
. . the natives and ornamental, like the Cornus capitata on the right in the image below . . .
. . this combination of cordyline and yucca in the foreground sits well with the oak in the background. A visual combination that won’t read so graphically when the oak comes into leaf.
The next morning at Beaulieu, in Hampshire, the mist sits low and silent over the river at low tide.
Fountain head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the daised banks and violets,
And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men’s fields! Henry David Thoreau Mist