o11


The day dawned softly, a gentle rain having come in the night. When I reached the bottom of the hill, the fog was so thick that only the willows in the foreground could be seen, the other trees fading away quickly into the gray wet nothingness. The small yellow leaves, which just this week had begun to be offered at the tips of rust-colored branches, were, like all colors this morning, muted in the mist.