A rising wind swirls fine mist about. There is a new storm due. Skittering through darkness, a few desiccated autumn leaves find their way to the grasping roots of bushes or to tangled patches of dormant plants in flower beds where they will at last decay to dust. My flashlight beam reveals among the drops of mist a few flakes of snow. The moon cannot be discerned even by any glow reflected in the clouds, so thick have they grown. Only this afternoon, there was bright sun, and birds singing from bare branches. The sudden bluster has taken the cats by surprise, and they rush indoors to watch it through the windows. I go back out to feel the invigorating mist.