Musings of a Compulsive Thinker

Appalachian mornings

A typical early morning in the Appalachian Mountains has its own slow, distinct charm. A wide, still river slides placidly along beneath its shroud of mist; vaporous fingers trail languidly through the reeds along the water's edge, silent over the marshy ground, settling stealthily into the hollows -- lying in wait, perhaps, or merely in molasses-thick lethargy. Thin white mist floats over a dirt lane, fills the fresh-plowed furrows in the quiet fields, hangs like smoke under the trees, swirling in the low spots between the worn hills like an old banjo tune. The morning light is soft and diffuse in the solid humidity pooling near the ground, blanketing but not quite touching, hovering shadow-like, light and airy, between gravity and evanescence, smoking down out of the slowly warming air.

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Labels: imagine yourself here, ponderings, travel

posted by the alygator @ 9:45 AM