I love this weather.

[kyrielle]

The world outside my window is vivid, rich, the colors heavy and thick in the stifled daylight, the heavy gold of the meadow brilliant against hte darkening grey of the sky. Jays, vivid blue-black calling jays, dart and hop from branch to branch in the old tree, half-bare some of them are as pieces of it die, looking as if it stands between two seasons as if a symbol for all around me now. The distant trees are faintly hazed, by the light rather than the air, and everything is damp in that way that touches the nose, that deepens a color, but can't quite be seen for water unless you could drift out, brush your hand over the grass or the tree to see what imparted that perfect, deep hue to it....

I've turned the music down, so I can hear the thunder, the jys, the sparrows chiding them.

I got no sunrise to photograph this morning, but on the whole, I don't mind. This is a perfect tradeoff for it. The world is going back to the seasons I like best, and here, now, this day is a perfect promise of it.