A warm fall day means mist rising off the ground as soon as the sun goes down. Wisps and waves of mist float across open fields and pastures overtaking everything in its path. They seem to meander every which way.
When I was a child, those mists were scary things, the things of ghost stories like the Will O’ The Wisp. They can still raise the hair on the back of my neck. One of those liminal moments in nature.
$325 (unframed) + $10 shipping and handling