black and white road, by Rachel Stogner

I'm sure that most people would disagree, but this is the kind of day that I just absolutely love.  It is just cold enough, and just damp enough, to invite a certain kind of feeling.  Maybe it's instinct, but it's something that makes us want to hide inside, turn up the heat, and wrap a blanket around ourselves.  Perhaps we turn off all the lights and let the weak light from the clouded day filter in through partially curtained windows. Maybe we ruminate about the past, or dive into a good book while eating foods we really shouldn't.  Maybe we miss someone.  Or worry about loved ones who aren't so fortunate that they can study the gray day through a glass window.  I'm guilty on all counts.

The storm door is creaking ominously while the wind blows it back and forth. I should get up from here and latch it closed...but I'm kind of enjoying the slow creak. It's almost an invitation to passing spectres to stop in and say hello.

I feel a story coming on...