At 9 a.m., beneath drizzly skies and cloud battening down unseasonably warm air, I checked on the skirted stinkhorns I discovered yesterday. The fruiting stalk which I had presumed to have erupted in ...
Like a damp shroud, fog and drizzle obscured clear views of autumn-tinted trees this morning. A duck in flight was a silent, winged torpedo, its body a blurred silhouette smeared by mist. A flock of a...
