This afternoon there was a brief moment when the sun almost emerged, and the light caught the drops of water clinging to the utility lines and the trees and shrubs, and then the birds sang. It was too good to last, of course, and now we are back to the usual winter overcast, with periodic rain showers. The birds aren't singing anymore. At least I'll get to go shopping tomorrow, though I'm apt to get soaked by very cold rain when I do so.
It's beginning to look so not like Christmas on this block. Most of the people who used to string lights on their houses have apparently died or moved away, and only one door is sporting a wreath. Could Bill O'Reilly have been right about the War on Christmas? Or maybe my neighbors are all converting to anti-Christmas Puritanism (in which case I can probably soon expect to be condemned as a witch because of all the feral cats hanging out at my house.) Or perhaps they are just as worried about their electricity bills as I am.
Whatever the reason, it hardly seems like December without the decorations. It's as though January had already arrived and everyone was sunk in post-holiday depression. Or maybe the Mayans were right and the world did end on the 21st, and now we're all disembodied, residual consciousnesses, just running on fumes as it were. What a kick that would be.
Whoa, just heard a thunder clap. Must shut down for the storm.