Shocking, this deep frigid air this early, ever. The blade of it cuts the breath. This morning when I got up at 5 AM the weather on my iPhone said it was 13 degrees and felt like 1. November and the ground covered with snow before Thanksgiving.
I light the candles, make coffee, settle into the dark stillness of this sweet hour as the silver light begins to rise out the window over the white ground.
Sit down at the typewriter with my tiny votive. . .