Cool on the heels of its closing days, the sky has only had brief moments of revealing its blue self, winter being more comfortable in shades of gray, cocooned in cloud-covered obscurity. On the dimmest days, the sky runs into the bare trees and dull ground with barely any demarcation – just one long monotonous sheet of a color that could be called ‘Doldrums’.
When a stretch of blue sky appears, one rushes to the nearest door to step outside and take it in. The light moves quickly at this time of the year, and the days are not as endless as they so giddily feel in the summer. I’ve admired a stand of fountain grass in the afternoon sunlight, then languidly took my time getting a coat on so that when I got outside to freeze it in a photo, the light was gone and the magic dissipated. Winter can make movers of the most reluctant of us.
