The sound of rain in the woods in winter is wonderful. The leaf litter is deep, and we could hear raindrops pattering over 20 acres of woodlands on a hillside near Panola Mountain.
We just listened. We got wet, but it was worth it.
Little streams are full and running. The water mumbles as it falls over rocks.
On Christmas Eve, we went to Yellow River.
We admired a lovely stand of foxtails, a grass in genus Setaria. The seed heads, dry and yellow, do look like foxtails.
We also found some dried Pear-shaped puffballs, Apioperdon pyriforme, a kind of spherical fungus that grows on dead wood. The puffballs had died, hardened, lost their footing and rolled into a hollow of the log. It was if we’d stumbled across a bowlful of wooden marbles deep in the woods. Had Professor Tolkien been around, we could have talked of the work of elves.
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