Late evening, it’s been lightly raining all day, misty twisting fog curls around the trees. We watched it engulf the whole landscape, it creeped down the road, across the yard, up the hill, through the trees, obscuring all with a grey wet opaque curtain. I am standing on the porch, went out to get more wood for the fire, looking into the greyness. I hear the muffled roar of the high water creak and plaintive calls from unseen wet birds in the brambles across the road. Quietly, tentatively, spectral church bells sound, their chiming far off up the hollow on the other side of the woods. It has an eerie quality, mysterious, disconnected but beautiful. Is that what singing angles sound like? I do not recognize the tune, but stand and listen to the soft haunting enchantment until it goes quiet.