My parents called me, alarmed, having heard news reports that the world was ending in an apocalypse of snow and cold here in the Northeast.  ‘Twas a little chilly this morning, but the lambs showed no sign of it, but for their new white whiskers.

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And while I’m not sure the physics bears this out, the cold seems to lend a clarity to the morning light.

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Friends from warmer places probably suspect I’m suffering some kind of weather-related Stockholm syndrome; perhaps, but I’m not prepared to trade the beauty of this time of year for perennial picnic weather.  I’ll check back in when it hits 20 below.