Sunday Afternoon

I sit in my office, which is really a converted spare bedroom in the house, staring out the window.

The snow sparkled this morning, but after a day of brilliant blue sky and warm sun rays, it is now a solid, secure white blanket that covers the world. The sparkles are gone.

That same sun must be awfully warm where it shines, because I see water drip-drip-dripping from the tips of the big blue spruce. The tree limbs are mottled with the white of the snow and the darkness of the evergreen beneath. It is lovely.

Yet the air is frigid, and I can feel it trying to seep through the windows. The sun is a deceptive villain, making it look like it should be warm and sultry. The moon, now, this morning she was warning me of the cold when I looked out to see her shining brightly above the mountain. She did a slow waltz toward the horizon before disappearing behind my beloved Blue Ridge Mountains. I can always count on the moon.

The snow in the front yard has been greatly disturbed by an animal that ventured through in the night. It left furrows, not tracks, and dug great areas of snow away in search of the earth. I thought it must have been a red fox or a possum - but a close inspection reveals deer tracks in the areas not furrowed. The furrows puzzle me greatly and I wonder if the animal is wounded. But would a wounded animal have dug out such great mounds of snow?

It is a day for thinking, contemplating, and wondering. A quiet day.