A goat - splendid creature - surveys the view below. Fog and clouds have become one.
A red-suited couple - almost giddily, one could imagine - exploring the forest of green, still wet with raindrops.
An insect daintily perched on the leaf of a doppelgänger for a pitcher plant. In the background, the fog sweeps in.
Delicate, latticed wings against the powder blue petals.
A heart-shaped surprise nestled amongst the moist blades of grass.
A honeybee sitting squatly in a flower, completely absorbed by its task.
This edible fern is locally known as "lungdu". I espied gaily-attired local women gathering them into worn out rucksacks, hurrying home before the sun sets.
A lone ranger on the velvety moss.
A sprig, a burst of emerald - no larger than one's fingernail - sprouts in the trunk of a fallen tree.
Enroute to Triund at 2875 meters, an ethereal pair of toadstools seemingly float near the base of a rotting log.
A slug amongst ferns, an iridescent hue, such as the colours are after the rain.
