Thursday walk

It was bitterly cold as we four prepared for our morning walk.

DH was a vision with his orange quilted layer peeking out at the bottom of his leather jacket. The flaps on his balaklava pile cap waved back and forth.*

The sky was all pastels - pale pink and blue.

In the park the pecans were black skeletons against the frosted ground and pale sky. Thin fog hung low in the fields and that misty miasma** rose from the river.

We walked along the running path until we had had enough of dogs stopping and starting, stopping and starting.

Running man was all wrapped up in some kind of cold weather gear - we recognized him by his running stance.

And the woman of the beautiful flowers came out in her "wrapper"*** to get the newspaper. As she turned to shut the door she saw us struggling back up the street, our breath fogging our glasses. She waved and waited to receive our wave back.

[The birds were singing out their morning songs. It was as if they knew more wild weather was coming and they had to get those songs sung. And I heard a raven in the woods. Its deep voice called out a "Brrrrrraw!"]


NOTES:

*And HE talks about how I dress!

**My mother's word.

*** My grandmother's word.