Truly a California mountain day. I spent a good part of the afternoon on the deck, pencil in hand, editing through some stuff I wrote. I find I am a much more thorough editor of my own work when I can hold the paper. Call it the vestiges of an earlier era or something. I sat on the deck, the sky perfectly blue, two feet away from a birdbath where chickadees would come for a sip of water. They are daring little birds. The air was warm enough for a t shirt, the breeze was light, the sun working as it should.
Now there is a growing layer of snow on the ground, a light fluffy snow that is coming down with persistent gentleness. The air is filled with snow, the roads are covered, the branches weighted down. A beautiful evening.
Really what more can be said than this?
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