That's what it felt like when I stepped out of the car camera in hand. The mist was hanging in such a manner that it felt as though I stepped into a watercolor of green. The branches hang, heavy from the weight of the deepening marine layer. The last morning like this I was walking the grounds of our Italian villa. The golden colors of the fall harvest reflected into the early morning light. It was as though I had passed through a time machine and was back in that rose-colored dining room sipping espresso and waiting for the house to wake.