[1668] Winter cannot last forever
The January thaw has come, and with it a lifting of my spirits. When I stepped off the tightly crowded bus this afternoon and felt the wind tugging at my coat and tangling through my hair I felt impossibly light-hearted. The walk home felt like a gift.
Clouds are piling up dove-grey over the mountains, but the western sky is clear and the long afternoon light is cool and golden. The winter-brown trees shine, and the dark line of clouds over the mountains cuts the heights the color of slate while the lower slopes are brown and gold with only patches of white and grey. The wind was soughing in the pines as I walked beneath them, and much of the piled ice has melted; the grass looks damp but hopeful. There are birds flocking in the shrubbery outside my window.
This will be an afternoon to remember, when winter closes in on us again.
Clouds are piling up dove-grey over the mountains, but the western sky is clear and the long afternoon light is cool and golden. The winter-brown trees shine, and the dark line of clouds over the mountains cuts the heights the color of slate while the lower slopes are brown and gold with only patches of white and grey. The wind was soughing in the pines as I walked beneath them, and much of the piled ice has melted; the grass looks damp but hopeful. There are birds flocking in the shrubbery outside my window.
This will be an afternoon to remember, when winter closes in on us again.