Day twenty-nine of counting One Thousand Gifts.
85. A song heard: the suburban symphony of construction work, traffic on the highway, and squirrels gnawing peanuts out of the shells. All oddly comforting.
86. A soft word: the murmuring of wind in the white pines. A blowing in of 65 degree weather after it was 19 degrees last week. Look! Someone wrote a song about it for marimba and vibes!
87. Light seen: palest colors of gray-white, yellow-white and blue-white gathered around the sun as very high, thin clouds arrived late this afternoon. Sat by the open window with a small glass of apricot brandy, gazing west, exulting in a bit of Spring in January.