Outside, in shortish pants
Outside, with my shovel, in shortish pants; time to clear the thin layer of barely ice from the deck. Temperatures are above the point where ice retains solidity, so the job didn’t take long. Barely enough time for my coffee to cool to the comfortable drinking point. We do live in balmy times. Now, I’m enough of a realist (with a long memory) to accept change. As in, winter might roll in, tomorrow or the next day. For now, though, I’m able to look outside and dream of summer. Perhaps not “tourist summer”, but something that doesn’t require keeping snowshoes on hand (or is it foot)?
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