The mountains surrounding our little farm are decorated with an abundance of snow. The stark white texture sends a chill down my spine. The air has that sharp, sweet sort of metallicy smell which tells me the rain which is falling here has melted from the snow that is falling above on its way down into this warmer air. So glad to be inside, dry and warm on this Sunday morning.
I had a rough time sleeping last night, only one seriously weird dream about werewolves a strange river in a bed of black stone and the house I lived in when I was 14 out near Hugo.
Breakfast pizza is rapidly restoring my inner balance though, so I shouldn't have any trouble recovering from a spotty night's sleep.
Keep dry and be happy.
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