When the rains finally started last week, I went out to the woods to rest my eyes on the new greys.
|From Race Point, Looking across to Quadra Island|
|Mist over a valley. Near Brown's Bay Road, Hwy 19.|
|Muted rainforest greens|
"The woods were lovely, dark and deep ..." (Robert Frost)
It was pleasant there, wandering in the slow rain, under the evergreens. The air was cool and damp; it smelled of moss. The only sounds were the quiet tree conversations; creaking and whispering; and the gentle pattering of falling fir needles. Far overhead, eagles circled, crossing and re-crossing the patches of visible grey sky.
Farther north, the rain had been and gone, but the mist remained.
|Deciduous trees, blasted by unaccustomed heat, basking now in a blue-grey mist.|
|Not everything is grey. Blackberries, still green, are red.|
The blackberries this year are ripening slowly. I've tried a few ripe ones; they're acid and hard. They need water, lots of water, and sunshine; this summer has been missing both.