3/06/08

Thursday, 8:30 AM. 0 degrees,Wind NE, very light. Barometer down, predicting partly cloudy skies. Skies foggy but becoming blue.
A half hour ago everything was enveloped in a frosty fog, but the prospects of the day are now improving.
A light covering of snow fell last night, and the atmosphere was so damp that a frosty crust clung to, one might even say exuded from, everything. White pines were encrusted with hoarfrost, as though their very pores had breathed out moist air and it had congealed on their needles. The sun looked like it was shedding not rays of light but frosty fog. The dog’s breath congealed in frost around his muzzle. Had I a beard it would have been well frosted. I wanted to cry out, “Enough already!” Give me spring!” and I almost cursed the pussy willow for its perfidy.
Hot coffee with cream and sugar vastly improves my mood at present, and I perceive the beauty of the morning emerging from under its frosty blanket. Time for a hot breakfast!