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2003-01-17 - 7:46 a.m. What color is your welkin? The sun rises slowly outside my office window. Layers of thin stratonimbus clouds bathed red, gold and purple, that purple-grey which is the color of budding heather. The light dusting of snow echoes back the morning, reflecting pink against the winter blue sky. Best show in town. Roland and I had a strange discussion about the color of the sky on our drive to Twelfth Night. I can tell the season from the color of the sky. There is a difference between the bleak, pale winter color and the rich and wavering cerulean of summer. Autumn has a clarity of blue different from all other seasons. Roland thinks I�m crazy. Well, he thinks that in general, but he has finds this particular observation odd because in his world, the sky is always blue. I suppose that�s fair. In Gen�s world, the sky is always purple. A good week. Let�s count blessings. A pause for the gift of a glass of wine and fine conversation on an evening fraught with running errands. A discussion of Thoreau, cooking, truth, baked oranges, dreams, beauty and where monkeys keep their brains. The fluid dynamics of an apple versus a sausage. Warm cheese sandwiches on a cold evening. Companionship while sewing. Ostrich feathers on a sweater. Help with the pliers and a gift of duct tape. Dancing in a shower of snow under the Home Depot parking lot lights. Random messages of love from my one true. A meeting of good friends tonight. Anticipation of fried chicken and smores and cheap wine. Sun's up and I have technology information to compile, schedules to keep, parts to evaluate for radiation. But the sunrise was delicious. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �