Morning light

... paving its way ...

... through the fog.

Sun, trees, Saharan Dust

. . .

 

Monochrome Monday

 Bonjour tristesse.

 

On the Road

. . .

In the wood

To visit this wood
one does need no green card, yet;
even in winter.

Landscape in the skies

There are more things
between sky
and the roof of a car.

Laughing Lhursday*

* [For first time visitors]:

Typo in the title? Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration. 

Trees and a windmill:
A case for Don QuiScottie.
Obviously, eh? 

On the road

13

Monochrome Monday

. . .

Windowverse

Looking northwards.

Water, Light, Sky and Trees

They came from Scotland

On the Road

Passing such idylls
mostly does help me to praise
taciturnity.

Friday is Skyday [100]

After all, the hundredth Skyday.

On the Road [32]

Rain flogging windscreen,
trees spectre-like flashing by.
. . . Filipendulous . . .

Once a Forest

Buying a forest,
letting cut all the beeches
making much money.

Appatreetion

Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspires are.
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
shall come against him.

[Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1 / Third Apparition]

The Bearable Lightness of Being

. . .

Into the Treebyrinth

How optimistic . . .

On the road

Why are there trees I never walk under
but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?

Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, 1856