The fog follows the winding bay down to her deepest resources, there in the far nestled grove, embracing her nest as the mist kissed eucalyptus drips drips to the dank loam below and the heron calls, somewhere out there on the marsh.
NOTABLOG / g.g. Nota - Nothing longer than a lazy Sunday drive, or as quick as a glance - there is no chronology or explanation, just snapshots, visual and verbal. Feel free to meander through the MENU in the drive-through ARCHIVE. Above all, enjoy the ride.
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