|Study in greys. The cloud cover was still thick.|
|Branches going every which way. And the sun trying to break through.|
|Looking at the bush, the trees become a tangle of competing branches and fallen leaves; in the puddles, they're reflected singly against the sky.|
I heard a frog couple croaking back and forth, and stood a long time with my toes in the creek, trying to see either one of them; no such luck! Wet leaves, wet branches, wet moss, wet mud, wet feet; no wet frogs. I was glad to hear them, though.