Last Sunday, I took another absurdly long walk around Colonial Williamsburg. There are so many hidden gardens and side streets to explore, so it seems that no matter how many times you go you always find yourself somewhere new.
I spent quite awhile meandering about the Governor’s Palace Gardens, which seemed as if they could have been enchanted in the misty gloom. Don’t mind me while I wax poetic.
Some logs, roots, and other bits of trees, living and dead: I have a strange aesthetic appreciation for wood grain.
And still more sundry photographs,
And finally, some livestock portraits for my suburban farmer dad.