The sun is bright, the weather warm, melting the snow. A chinook wind rides across the vast distance from the mountains to this Outpost City on the plains, and people dream of springtime and rain. These days bring hope to the soul, a strength that will help bolster the will through the next few months of winter. The coldest is yet to come.
The days are longer, and growing more so every day, and the new year is bouncing along merrily. There are plans and ideas and exciting work to do all in the coming weeks, and life is a good thing full of deep breaths and happiness.
But there is that incessant shadow just on the edge of vision. A warning? Maybe just an old companion, hovering about, reminding me of mortality and the passing of time like the soft clack of a beak on the glass panes of my studio.
Either way, joy or sorrow, for me it is a good day whenever my eyes open.