In the cool early morning, steam fog rose from a stream and drifted over the countryside.
Wild turkeys are silhouetted in the morning mist as they feed in a field.
As the fog drifts by, its droplets are intercepted by the threads of funnel webs of (what is probably) the hobo spider.
Drops on these webs are captured from the fog; they are not dewdrops.
The fog droplets on the spider webs transform them to a level of beauty that rivals any of the Tiffany creations we see on the Antiques Roadshow. I feel grateful to the spiders, to the fog, and to Alistair.
Denise, the spiders and I are both honoured by your assessment.