The gray day reeked of cold and desolation. The brown leaves covered the ground and with each degree the thermometer dropped, another leaf fell. The breeze whipping through the trees grew stronger as if threatening to blow the rest from the thinning branches.
Squirrels scurried over the hard dead grass and desperately dug around for acorns they'd buried last fall. They worked as if panicked, when all they had to do was dig through the garbage cans as they usually did, looking for KFC leftovers and otherwise artery clogging trash. But instinct prevailed with the overcast sky as they hopped across the ground checking over their shoulders for the cat who stalked the yard. They scrambled up trees and hovered tightly into nooks or crannies keeping safe, snuggled against the wind.
The heat, finally reaching into the room in the attic where I worked, now seemed stiffling instead of warm and comforting. As day crept later into afternoon, no sun volunteered to cheer the mood or warm the soul. Holidays had passed, the whole new year loomed ahead and the TV mumbled with threats of politics and recession.
Rustling sounds of refuse blowing, globs of Spanish Moss dropping, conflicted with the sound of wind chimes finally singing. The north wind filled the air with a baritone song.
The water in the pool looked cold. It looked too clear, shimmery, rippling and somehow the warm summer torquoise color gave way to the color of blue ice glaciers today. One wouldn't have to test the water to feel its frigid temp.
Thank goodness January only lasts a day or two in Florida.
Update on How's that Writing Journey Coming?
1 week ago