Drifting Mist, Soft and Subtle

 A strange day. The night was filled with wind and spattering rain, rattling the windows and echoing in the chimneys. The morning began overcast and wet, the rain heavier, the wind easing. By early afternoon there was dead calm. The clouds thickened and darkened, a solid wall of grey filling the sky. Soon the snow began, big wet flakes drifting silently and slowly downwards. At first the wet ground absorbed them but soon they began to stick, making the land brighter than the sky as it turned white.

 

Not long before dusk the snow began to fade and mists began to appear, drifting in random bands across the hills, brushing the tops of the trees and sinking into the valleys. I walked across the frozen fields watching the silent and subtle light. Rabbits scurried away from feeding on grasses poking through the snow. Little else moved. A buzzard called high in the sky but was invisible in the mist. The harsh cry of a startled pleasant came from the woods. Underfoot the snow crunched lightly.

 

Slowly the mists coalesced into one thick band that crept over the snow towards me. Soon I was enveloped and as visibility faded I felt drops of moisture on my face. By the time I was home a steady rain was falling. Soon after dark I looked out. The snow had gone.