A thick grey fog rolled into and over the back meadows and gardens this morning,

It is dusk now and that fog is still here.

After a series of seemingly endless days of November gray I find myself dreaming of summer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I dream of fairy folk dancing in the meadows scattering fairy dust at work and at play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I dream of Old Horse standing sentry, watching over my gardens on a warm sunny day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think of Grand Fafa and how he watches over each and every one of us as he always did and continues to do so day after day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memories warm us from within, coloring even the grayest of days with the brilliance of all we have loved.