At a quarter to seven, the view out the bedroom window was of a pink-and-orange sunrise coloring the clouds and tinting the now-fading fall leaves still clinging to the trees. The woods beyond the road were tinged with purple, and all was aglow.
I got up to put out the trash before the garbage trucks came, and went for a walk down by the shore. The tide was in, so I didn’t go far — just enough to get my blood moving. Back at the house, I made coffee, hot cereal; started a fire in the woodstove to take the chill off. The fire is now humming along, the chimney singing, my toes warming. The cloudy sky is a yellow-white to the east, a pale grey to the west. The garbage trucks go by. My nose is cold, but the rest of me is warm indeed.