halla visited. in shady areas, the frost stayed throughout the day. it was my cue to head out to the cranberry bogs. mushrooms were thawy and moss crisp, it really is getting colder here. first snow can not be far in the future... i will be needing more woolly sock layers in my rubber boots the next time, the water was ankle-deep and very chilly. still, there is nothing better and nothing that smells nicer. cranberry picking is the most sensual foraging of all. the berries are hidden in the vines and sphagnum moss, they need to be carefully sought and pried out, their hue is the most tender of all reds... i am always at my most content when cranberry-picking, most at ease with myself and in touch with something greater, something very feminine.
dusk fell fast and i didn't have time to find very many berries, but the light was wonderful, even the sunset had a reddish hue, not because of my berry-picking, i know, but to foretell the rain. my camera battery died on me just as i was about to document it all. maybe next time...
i did, however, capture into a photograph that favourite sound of mine, the double plip-plop in the rainwater barrel. that was lucky.
