…or so it seems.
In truth, it’s only been raining four days, but time slows in January here, and each day stretches extra long. And now we have snow in our short-term future…..sigh.
Even the ladies at the bank seem glum, and the wetness has slogged through boots and jackets, gloves and hats are already soaked.
We walk, still. Well, most days we do. And we’re rewarded with burning cheeks and a fresh attitude each time. Walking in the fog offers magic as its own reward, and a timelessness.
The birds are out, as always…and in spite of it all, it’s always reassuring to recall these lines from Oliver Herford:
“We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,”
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.