The day is hidden. Out of reach. Unrecoverable.
Layered in heavy, wet fog.
I bake, I move from one corner of the room to another, I listen.
In the late afternoon, I drive out to the sheepshed. How to photograph fog? Each of us will “see” it differently. To me, it is best recognized in the infinite nothingness of a white field, blending into the equally white air around it.
In the center of all that emptiness, I can see a tree and a half. Because half of it seems to have collapsed.
So, a tree and a half, in fog, for Ocean.
Oh, and a partridge in a pear tree. Make it a robin in a peach tree. Same diff.