This morning when I headed out there had been a hard frost and there was lots of ice on the puddles. When I crossed the seeps on the path through the moss meadow, I swear I twitched with the urge to pull out my camera—but there wasn’t time to stop and take pictures.
(There would have been, except for having to return an escapee acquaintance of the canine variety to his caretaker, who appeared quite horrified to discover that said canine apparently is capable of going over the fence when he sees something interesting—which was in this case me, as I’d said hi to him and precipitated the whole event.)
At any rate, there wasn’t time to spare for pictures—as it was, I missed walking on with the first set of foot passengers and had to embark with the group following the cars. But I’d badly wanted to take those pictures, so as a substitute I dug around and found a couple of nice ones from a month or so ago.
The common thread is the wee rocks that almost give them faces—eyes in the first, a dog-like nose (my imagination perhaps inspired by the morning’s events?) in the second.