Under the blue light

When I threw open the curtains this morning I was (slightly) dismayed to see a light frosting of snow on the ground. It was still barely coming down and there was no sun. The light was the harsh, white light that you see in a doctor's office. You know, the glaring light that makes your legs slightly blue and seems to accentuate every pocket of cellulite. I suppose instead of a doctor's office you might be in a change room cubicle, trying on bathing suits or other piece of clothing that requires stripping down. It is a light that defeats instead of inspire.

We have been watching a series of shows about Italy. The light there is golden and warm. It reflects off the buildings that all seem to be made of rose stone or pale yellow stucco. If I lived there I'd want to take up painting in an effort to capture the sun onto canvas.

Before I leave you thinking we got tons of snow I'll pipe up and say that we didn't. There are little pockets where the flakes have drifted together, but they are mostly hidden from view. At least from the view inside. And I didn’t go outside looking for them with my camera!

"The soul exists partly in eternity and partly in time.”  ~Marsilio Ficino