Just making the rounds, shutting out lights on my way to bed. Had turned out all the lights inside and was standing at the front door, looking at the snow in the yard illuminated by the front porch light. It shimmered and glowed in the light, and I marvelled at the slope to the street and how beautiful it was—all smooth except that one little thread of small foot prints. Then I turned out the porch light.
I wish you could see it. Perhaps you have. But the yard was transformed by the flip of that switch. The moon is out, and where the snow had been golden and glistened, it was now a muted gray—a gray you might actually paint your walls. But what was best was the sudden appearance of the dark gray shadows of the tree limbs on the snow. A masterpiece, I tell you. A masterpiece of light and shadow and snow. I wish you could see it.