I fall asleep early with the laptop still on, wake to five kinds of weather visible by turns through the net curtains: all-the-way grey but no rain; rainy lowering grey-yellow; blue with large scudding clouds; cloudless blue, bright with low sun; & now a smeary dark grey with wind. I shall wind a green scarf around my neck & go out.
Brightness wells from the new-fallen snow; the overcast sky seems worn & tired by comparison, like the face of a mother who has just given birth. The snow is a great muffler of sound, though it does squeak faintly under my boots. I’m a moving smokestack, emitting white clouds of breath. Just as I round the last bend toward home, my shadow joins me.
See Rachel’s photographic response: “Frost fur.”