There was a solid line of a cold front of clouds at 8am; by 9:30 the sun was gone. Tired of the grays and browns all around us, we drove to a park for a change of scenery.

Because of the warm weather we’ve been having (in the 30s and 40s), the lakes still mirror the sky with their soft, gray ice. The water, when it shows, is flat and black and cold.

Under the tamaracks
, the ground is soft with needles. They give off a delicate smell somewhere between grass and pine.

Spruces clump close together, dark, still and silent, but peaceful. Their hung branches cross in an unconscious embrace.

And at last we walked up to my favorite red maple, with a trunk like a column of cement.

When we got home I planted some more wildflower seeds. Sid played around me. Jenny warmed the house with supper.