We had a glimpse of spring, like trees blossoming, and then it is winter again. Snow is falling as a reminder that the season is not over in spite of our longing for seasonal shift.
I enjoy the light of winter, especially the one when there is snow outside in the garden. Very bright and cold light indeed.
It is in line with the short story I am currently reading, the one by Joyce Carol Oates called "Small Avalanches". Except there is no snow in the garden. There is no garden at all.
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