Fog and the Flock

The dogs and I were out recently, a pleasantly foggy dawn, enjoying the new day.  When we got out to the misty campground, looking over to the boat ramp, the sky looked like this:

I like the sunlight off the fence. Overall, feeling kind of mysterious, no? Where those low trees are, at right, I also found something for my friend up in the North Bay, La Puenta (as my real estate agent who lived in Point Richmond called it).  Lazy Buddhist had a spidery post and in honor of her arachnophilia (arachno-ambivalence?) I took these pictures at the park district’s kiosk, where I counted seven webs:

There’s nothing quite like  foggy morning to bring out the predatory details of an arachno-trap:

The funny thing is, in these pictures I don’t see a spider anywhere. Maybe it was too cool a morning?

I have to admit, in a gruseome sort of way, I like the overlapping web thing. I mean, come on little fly, you think you can get through one? We’ve got another right behind. And what happens when a fly is snared? Does the other spider come out and salivate?

Farther down the path I found a gaggle of geese on the sidewalk. I think they were aware of Edie before she saw them.

You see the heads go up, the pace quicken, and they begin honking a quiet warning to each other, then Edie realizes they are there, runs forward, and the plump young family takes off.

Wings beating the air, the stillness broken by honking grown more earnest.

How cold is it, to plonk your butt down in that water?

Oh c’mon, they’re used to it. Boooosh!!

Okay, everybody here? Come on, now, let’s all gaggle together.

Not sure what about this tickled me so much, but there was something in the sequence I liked, I guess in how they all gathered together once in the water.  Behind them, that lump on the end of the dock is a snoozing harbor seal, delaying its plunge into the water to begin the new day.