It is quiet in the woods in January, though forests are naturally hushed places with their pine needle carpets, and the confluence of branches that seems to gently hold in the sound.
It was just a short walk down an access road. As the sun descended and the fog lifted, and morning moved toward mid-morning...
Beautiful winter forest! In places, autumn leaves have fallen, and midway down some become ensnared, on a bare branch, or by a tuft of spindly Spanish moss, they remain suspended there like strings of ornaments -- they decorate and catch the light.
In the winter, some of the lichen on the tree trunks is flush with brilliant color – a surprising spring green.
The Spanish moss was everywhere: encircling branches, hanging from wire-like twigs, its gauzy aura backlit. The sun in beams – making the depth and nuance and layers of the trees distinct, complex, present.