I’ve always found it odd how the grey skies drains the color around us. Everything is drab as if devoid now of most color. The trees are skeletons of what they once were standing naked against the skyline. The sun is nothing more than a white spot slowly moving across the sky. A white spot, that is, when the cloud cover isn’t so think as to obscure that it’s even hanging in the sky. The wind bites cold at exposed skin. I’ve been huddling inside the house to escape the north wind and to stay warm.
It reminds me of when I was a kid in southern Iowa during the cold winters there. I’d lay on my bed reading some book and trying to stay warm in our drafty old house. Momma kept the furnace set at 62*F to save some money. She’d always say to put on a sweater if we thought it was chilly. I guess kids that grew up during The Depression had habits that were hard to break. You could whine all you wanted about how you were freezing to death but those complaints usually fell on deaf ears. It also would result on Momma getting mad and then chasing you out of her kitchen.
It’s hard not to think about that when I’m out walking during the day.