But it turned cold again.
Last night after a week of steadily falling temperatures, it began to snow - not that lovely lazy gentle drift of flakes, that make me want to go and catch them on my tongue as I did when a kid. But a bitter, bone-chilling, winter-taunting shriek of a storm. My brain felt numb. Where did my energy go?
I didn't want to walk the dogs, even in the shelter of one of the many trails through cedar forests, soft and protected with little streams still bubbling merrily over treefalls. I wanted to hide under the duvet with socks, sweaters, mitts and the blankets over my head, and sleep away winter like a grizzly bear.
Or like Eleia:
I glumly pulled on my boots and with some trepidation grabbed the shovel in my bare hands, to at least make the door easier to open. I was surprised. No biting wind surging through my dressing gown. Granted I didn't stay out long, just enough to make a short path to throw seed for the birds that I knew would soon be addressing the feeders. But still not what I expected.
And so the day goes. More snow, but gently falling.
Perhaps it will end like this:
May you enjoy a safe and warm Sunday wherever you are.