Scarce could I believe, after the turbulence of the day's weather, that we should see even a glimmer of sunlight. I finally managed to get myself out the door at about 4:20, greatly in need of some exercise. I climbed up the hill - ever an ordeal - and turned left onto the main boulevard, where, at last, the terrain leveled out. Moving along, I soon found the rooftops at my right bathed in the brightest sunlight, not that of a weak and watery winter's sun, but in a glow that shone warm and gold.
That, however, was not what drew my unbroken gaze. Against a breaking sky of steely gray and bursts of baby blue, populated with scudding, dirty clouds, was the magnificence of pines - ponderosa, sugar and digger - standing like torches, burning but not consumed, as they illumed the fading afternoon skies. Even the ordinary, oddly-shaped digger, stood tall and proud in uncharacteristic majesty.
I really do have to get out more often.