Connecticut Mists Roll In

Like the Mists of Avalon

The Mists literally roll down the driveway as we, up on the Ridge, flow into the clouds. It is so magical to me, considering I am from Chicago where we seemed to be forever encased in a dome of grey. Mist fills the forest, shrouds the stones, and cloaks the deer, hawks, and ravens in smokey shades. Things appear, and disappear in the blink of an eye.

My husband built this wall when we first moved here and attempted ‘landscaping’….another Chicago thing to do. Connecticut is the land of stone walls for a reason. Stones, granite, slate, quartz lie close to the surface everywhere. We live on a crystal mountain, with deep underground rivers flowing to the reservoir. A land of artists, sculptors, writers and poets, all drawn to the crystal hills & flowing waterfalls of wild woods, white water rapids, and incredible skies.