Winter in my neck of the woods means rain and sometimes, when I'm lucky, a wind storm. Earlier this week I woke to the proof positive signs that our winter wind has arrived. A fresh layer of pine needles blanketed the drive way and peppered the lawn, the sky was a monotonous grey -- exhausted -- but the most telling sign of all was in my dreams. I woke with the memory of wet branches clawing my headboard and my bed bobbing in a puddle; me tunnelling deep into the duvet, afraid to step out of bed and get my feet wet.
This afternoon it did it again -- wind and water. I was awake to savour it and photograph the wet library window.