I find myself walking my local haunts more when autumn falls. Socks are never more elusive than the moment you would like to find them. This leaves me more than enough time to contemplate the universe, the meaning of life, the origin of socks. . . so many things to contemplate on a lovely autumn day.
I wandered around my favorite trail near the celery bog, watching light catch the edges of the water. The marshy area has recovered somewhat after the drought earlier in the year. The ducks splash, dip, and bob, breaking the surface into circles of light and dark.
It is when I am most absorbed in my contemplation of the world around me that the socks appear. As if sensing that I am unprepared to photograph them. My camera is already in my hands, swinging into position. *Wilding Socks are common here and imminently photographable.
I snap several pictures against the floral backdrop and smile a bit. My contemplations set aside, I begin scouting for more socks. I always find them. Somewhere there are more socks to find. Until next time, this is your Sock Hunter, signing off.
*Basic ribbed socks, US 1 Hiya Hiya DPNs, Socks That Rock Lightweight in Downpour