That time when the woods went completely silent, a ghostly stillness I’ve experienced only once.
“Men say, that in this midnight hour,The disembodied have power,To wander as it liketh them, By wizard oak and fairy stream,Through still and solemn places,And by old walls and tombs, to dream,With pale, cold, mournful faces. I fear them not; for they must be,Spirits of kindest sympathy,Who choose such haunts, and joy to feel, The beauties of this calm night steal, Like music o’er them, while they woo’d, The luxury of Solitude.”
My first look at the Chimney Tops since the fires. Most of the trail leading up to the last quarter mile before the pinnacle was thankfully untouched by the blaze, however the peak itself (by my eyes) looks significantly more ominous.