The weather Sunday ought to have been a replay of Saturday's, brisk and clear overnight, maybe some fog running along the creeks and rivers, followed by a cool and sunny day, and I was hoping for just that. Because of an equipment difficulty (that's what you call it when you get a new digital camera and don't know how to operate it), I had managed to delete the large versions of all the pictures from Saturday, and I wanted to go back in time and space, stand in the same places at the same times, put the tripod legs in the holes from yesterday, and re-take all of the same pictures. The thing is, Sunday refused to be Saturday, which turned out to be a lucky break.
It wasn't even starting to get light in the east as we came down the big hill into Boxley Valley and headed north toward the comfort station at Ponca bridge, but along the way here and there we drove through wafting banks of fog, and sometimes I could just make out others rising from the Buffalo across the fields to the east. At the bridge, stars overhead were visible, but to the east and west the sky was a dark blank. Gentle reader, it was starting to look like the gods of photography would be smiling down on us that morning.
It was still a half hour before sunrise when I came out onto the bluff at Hedges pour-off after a short walk down from the road, but already the view to the east was spectacular, with the pre-dawn sky over-topping and lighting the rivers of fog above Smith Creek and the Buffalo as they flowed together and formed a floating lake at their confluence.