Tracery of Trees

A very foggy morning --unusual for New York -- we're heading to Long Island in a rental car.

Time to escape all this for a moment.....

and take rather bad Hipstamatic photos as we speed along.

I am quite besotted with bare branches --always have been. They always remind me of Shakespeare's sonnet #73
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals all up in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 
This is the same picture as the top one --an echo or a rhyme perhaps

These branches are above a gas station where we stopped to fill up

and these beside the Northern State Parkway.
Notes: Carol Gillot of the lovely blog Paris Breakfasts just wrote a most amusing post about our dog Buster. We loved it and Buster's head if now full of his importance!
The winner of the Novica gift code is Mary who commented on the last post.  Mary please contact me so you can find something lovely.