Sticky fingers – wet snow on wet twigs.
I find myself sick enough to be confined to bed, sinuses clogged
and painful enough that my thoughts struggle even to get out of
my head. But still I can’t deny the snow is beautiful.
I know it won’t last long so I get my camera and take pictures from
inside, looking out.
By afternoon it’s already too warm, and the snow tears and
drops unevenly from the tree limbs.