The Dark, again

It was not even 4:00 today when I noticed the streaks of sunset coloring the sky- striations of pink and orange peaking through low layers of clouds. The rain has been sparse. Although my cheeks have been bitten red from the cold, the sun has been shining and it hasn't yet truly felt like winter in the northwest (I say this with down booties on and a fire in the woodstove that has been roaring for hours). Today as I was whipping down a side street on my new bike, I was thinking about real winters, and what immediately sprang to mind was not the snowy expanses of Montana, but the heaters of the dorms in Massachusetts. I remembered bundling for walks that first year of college only to wait and wait some more for this person to be ready or that dog to arrive,or that vat of tofu to be done cooking, all the while sweating underneath my infinite layers of thrift shop sweaters to protect my fragile southern California countenance, and then the shocking blast of cold upon exiting those hydraulic doors out of the concrete into the air. I remembered the pine trees at the end of the forest, the way they swayed in the wind, and the sense of mystery when looking out where the woods gave way to corn field, dead stalks waiting out the winter.