Frosted Fence With Silo

During the months of August and September, if it’s going to be a brilliantly clear sunny day, the valley beneath my home in the Catskills fills with a dense fog in the morning. I like to head out around 5:00 AM, creeping around in my Muck boots, observing the haunting shapes of the mystical, until a few hours later, the rising sun burns away the mist, metamorphosing the foreign into the familiar.