One morning a week or so ago you would have thought we were at sea with just the tops of houses across the field jutting above the waves of fog.
But always the geese fly over our house, sometimes is small separate flocks, sometimes in a huge one, as they travel from the golf course behind us to the fields outside our window.
Often they fly off into the rising sun in one long line.
And seem headed for the base of the mountain.
One day we looked out to see this tractor heading across the tall grass, and knew that the mowing had begun in the field.
Late in the day the white towers of Allied were silhouetted against the mountain shadows as the tractor worked in that part of the field.