This is my application for the contest Phone Photography Contest - #131 [New avatar of your favorite photography contest] by 
I have already described my thoughts about the morning puff pastry pie. I'm talking about the weather in the morning. But since Friday, the rule has been broken. On Friday morning, there was sunshine and a cloudless sky. The sun was shining yesterday too. Today is Sunday, and I was watching the sunrise from the window.
I went out into the yard, took the dog and headed to the nearest small lake, where, according to my understanding, there should be fog. After going down the ravine to the road leading to the lake, I realized that my camera would not turn on, there was no battery in it. I put it on charge last night and forgot about it.
Well... we'll have to coordinate our plans, pick up an iPhone and tell the dog that we're not going to the lake.
That's exactly how Nora looked at me. She was not happy with the fact that I did not let her run freely, but led her on a leash. The fact is that she won't want to go home after a walk and will run around the village. I only let her off the leash when we go for a walk in the woods or on the river.
After walking along the road under the mountain, we turned left and went up into the city, although the Burrow pulled me to the right, towards the river.
Autumn, the birches are shedding their leaves, it would be better if the leaves stayed on the tree and were bright yellow.
In Russia, a large number of people believe that birch trees grow only in Russia, as if these trees obey state borders and have citizenship. This is not a joke, this is reality. "Russian birch" has been an expression I've heard since I was a child.
By the way, I'm going to the left.
There is a car at the garages, a man is going to go somewhere. Most likely in the forest, for mushrooms. The time on the clock is 6:20.
For 15 years, I have been observing a small local struggle to ban driving on this road. There's a cemetery ahead. There used to be a good road to the river from the main street of the village, but it fell into disrepair and the village Administration decided that this road was not needed because no one lives by the river. People began to drive to the river through the cemetery, then the village Administration began to make ditches on these roads so that it would be impossible to drive through, but people buried these ditches. It seems to me that the village administration has given up and no one has been blocking the road for 3 years. The fact is that the passage to the river must be in accordance with fire safety conditions.
Left or right?
The dog wants to go to the right. There's a road, there's a house, but I tell her to go left, we'll take another walk.
Christians, Muslims, and Jews lie together in our cemeteries. There are differences in the monuments and if it is a stone monument, then it is installed in the direction of East or West. Until 1917, there were separate Tatar cemeteries.
I have been living in this village since 1991. I have been living in this part of the village, next to the cemetery, since 2014. In winter, I often walk my dog here, because there is a snow-cleared road and there are no people. But last winter, for some reason, we often met real people here on weekends. They decided to walk here in silence too. They are mostly elderly women.
Yes, I have been living in this village for 35 years. I see a lot of familiar faces on the monuments. Maybe women walk around here among their friends, talking to them, remembering their youth.
But we're not going to the river, we're going home.
I inserted the battery into the camera, but it also turned out that the memory card was inserted into the laptop. I downloaded yesterday's evening photos and also forgot her in the slot.
By the way, this is not the original battery, I recently purchased it on the marketplace. It has an increased capacity and has a USB-C connector for charging. This is an additional versatility. Progress does not stand still.
Thanks for reading...
Text & Photography by 
@apnigrichGood luck and have fun