This morning I dragged my sorry backside out of bed to transport my husband to work, so he didn’t spend his day soggy (because I am lovely that way).  A couple of the dogs looked interested in coming along, so I popped them into the truck, too.  The rain had dwindled to a mere mist by the time I had turned around to come back, so I thought to take my passengers for a walk. I pass pretty close by Bayfront Park, so that became our destination.  Just past dark o’clock, I gathered the dogs out of the truck and we stepped out into…magic.

We have had a wee bit of a dramatic temperature shift over the past couple of days going from the deep winter minuses to the oddly springtime pluses, and we are heading for a rapid descent into the minuses again today (and boy is my head letting me know that…).  So, this morning, low cloud diffused light filtered through fog coming from warm atmospheric air hitting the arctic cold of the ice on the bay.  Condensation was forming droplets on everything, married with the morning light, made a show of sparkle that would out do any Christmas display. The colourlessness that I struggle with all winter was transformed into deep reds, rich golds, and warm yellows juxtaposed against the blacks, browns, and greys.  Bits of the landscape and surrounding buildings emerged in vague shapes and disjointed bits from the enveloping mist. Of course I didn’t have my camera and my word painting does the view a sorry service.

What struck me though is how I forget these things. I forget the magic that an early morning can be, in favour of staying in bed for another half hour or more.  How beautiful the changing light can be. How invigorating getting up and going is. Experiencing the changes of the day first hand instead of getting caught up with what is happening inside. So, me, the dogs, and a lone goose standing out on the ice shared the moment.