SODDEN SUNDAY PLUS A YTRAP
The first thing one notices is how everything is gray or green. Puddles shine their reflections of the sky, a sadly admiring mirror. Moon-pale mushrooms glow wetly in the grass, some as big as saucers. Mottled and moist, the sycamores are studded with snails. A crabapple tree has littered a circle of unripe fruit, scattering largess to the slugs. Pale purple thistle heads crown the meadow edges. Clouds tower, a sky duvet, backlit by high behind sunshine. The spongy ground is swollen, everything’s damp and mossy. I grabbed a half-hour window of opportunity, taking a brisk walk through a wet-washed...