The wind whips along the passage between my house and the neighbor’s, a wild, invisible force that leaves behind surprisingly delicate sandbar-like ripples in the snow. Then the slanting rays of the late afternoon winter sun accentuate the patterns with deceptively warm colors. But trust me, this is no day at the beach.
Later, as the sun prepares to withdraw completely, it tints the wind-sculpted drifts with a pastel spring blush, as if to say, “Come out and play! It’s beautiful and warm!” Don’t listen! The ambient temperature is minus 20 Celsius and the wind chill is minus 32. I regret having the horizontal lines in the second one. They're reflections of my plantation blinds, as I was taking this from inside rather than step out into the teeth of the stinging wind!
Posts
