Post by Hazel Franklin on Mar 14, 2016 5:08:41 GMT -6
Early morning mist drifted through the school grounds, turned opalescent by the rising sun. The air was still chilly, the trees still bare, and a thin layer of frost still covered the grass, but spring was on its way, even here in Canada.
Hazel focused her camera on the tiny buds on one tree branch. She breathed slowly, lightly, not wanting to disturb anything. Click. She snapped a photo of the buds, refocused, and took another. Refocus again and one more picture. She would have to develop these in color, she thought, to show the tiny hints of green in the buds in contrast with the blackness of the branches.
A chilly wind rustled the branches and swirled the mist. Hazel pulled her pale blue cloak tighter around her body. It wasn't really warm enough yet to be wearing something like this, she reflected, but her heavier cloak was too heavy to wear for long periods of time. She turned from the tree and continued her walk down the pebbled path, relishing the emptiness of the grounds around her. It was only six in the morning. Very few other people in the castle were awake, as far as she knew, and the only sounds were those of nature.
Or perhaps not. Hazel turned as she heard footsteps coming up the path behind her. She could not quite see who was coming through the mist, but she didn't particularly want to see anyone. She stepped off the path and into the grove of trees. She would cut through the trees to the other side and find the path again. Whoever it was could just keep moving and go their own way without bothering her.
She had only taken three steps before she heard the person call her name. She sighed and stopped, waiting to see who it was.
Hazel focused her camera on the tiny buds on one tree branch. She breathed slowly, lightly, not wanting to disturb anything. Click. She snapped a photo of the buds, refocused, and took another. Refocus again and one more picture. She would have to develop these in color, she thought, to show the tiny hints of green in the buds in contrast with the blackness of the branches.
A chilly wind rustled the branches and swirled the mist. Hazel pulled her pale blue cloak tighter around her body. It wasn't really warm enough yet to be wearing something like this, she reflected, but her heavier cloak was too heavy to wear for long periods of time. She turned from the tree and continued her walk down the pebbled path, relishing the emptiness of the grounds around her. It was only six in the morning. Very few other people in the castle were awake, as far as she knew, and the only sounds were those of nature.
Or perhaps not. Hazel turned as she heard footsteps coming up the path behind her. She could not quite see who was coming through the mist, but she didn't particularly want to see anyone. She stepped off the path and into the grove of trees. She would cut through the trees to the other side and find the path again. Whoever it was could just keep moving and go their own way without bothering her.
She had only taken three steps before she heard the person call her name. She sighed and stopped, waiting to see who it was.
