"The wood is full of shining eyes, The wood is full of creeping feet, The wood is full of tiny cries: You MUST not go to the wood at night!" The Magic Wood --Henry Treece I haven't listened to Baptism in quite a while, But Joan Baez did a mesmerizing version of this poem (and others) on the album. There were some disquieting trees and extremely hairy rocks at Pt Reyes. This shot is merely inverted, rotated, and cropped a bit (no filters or anything), and I'm glad that I got it then. The fog came in well before we made it back, with a wet chill which went all the way through to bone. Even though the colors apear subdued, the woods are very much alive... who knows to which world the winding paths lead?