Morning Mist

Such a serene spot, braving the fog and mist. If the bench wasn't all wet, and if it wasn't so chilly out, I'd sit there for hours.

Anna's Bench

I wrote a poem last fall, using a picture of a bench in the midst. It's a sad poem--I called it "Anna's Bench". So now, when I see a bench, I think of that poem. This bench is much more happy, sitting in the sun.