The snow was unexpected in The Classic City and maybe even more beautiful because of it,
and if you look you will see the deer frisking in the woods between falling flakes.
Trees that have held on to pale golden leaves well past autumn shone bright as beacons in the now whited-out field.
I know that I believe in love. And my sister believes in sending me birthday cards a week early.
But after an old family friend's devastating passing, it's hard to concentrate, hard to work, hard to do Art, hard to be anywhere but Bleak House
