The series of snow-infested days is keeping me very happy. In fact, over-the-top happy.
Ice cold air brushing my fingertips. Snow flakes. Evening strolls. Moonlight on the ground covered with snow. Long evenings. Quiet, deafeningly quiet midnights. Steams from hot drinks.
These things make my heart skip.
Writing this now suddenly reflected an image of a pack of wolves strolling in a snowy woods in the dark.
Perhaps, I had been one of them in my past lives. Or, maybe it's my after life.
No wonder I am a devoted dog person, and I love Jacob.
When the temperature starts to drop, a bell in high above starts to sound, first very subtle, then stronger and stronger. The bell sounds crisp when the air is frozen. The bell is singing, "be aware, something is going to happen. Be aware, the gods are chanting. A happiness is coming."
Snow is like magic powder, like sprinkles of small happiness.
(I have a theory of temperature and human creativity, but I won't go into that today.)