Gray morning out there in the morning, the sky just rimming apricot around a vault of faintly luminous slate. You wouldn't know the sky was up there if you weren't looking at the stark claws of naked trees against it.

The sky is so much brighter when there's snow across the ground.

Out in the street, the garbage trucks are grumbling from driveway to driveway, grim flat-nosed workaday goblins. Pragmatic and unsentimental. I wonder what they make of the fairy lights that drape every house on my block.

I think I need to throw on a sweater and take the dog for a walk before the sun comes up.

This is where I live.