Thy foggy dead: a picture post

All that snow has to melt, and it leaves ankle-deep pools of cold water in the low places. When warm spring air rolls in above them, mist rises in the cemetery:

Aside from turning my backyard into the setting of the long-awaited Ravenloft movie, it was peaceful and moody and beautiful. The ground I squished across had turned to several acres of mud-flavored Slurpee, and the light fled with great speed (fittingly, I suppose), but I'm glad I grabbed the chance.

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