tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-49145810764997119552007-11-28T16:38:00.000+01:002007-12-16T22:36:42.558+01:00

The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits. During the night, the rain has ceased, the low clouds blown away and dispersed by a whipping south-east wind. The day was bright, clear and the morning was pierced by a

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.com