Setting Sun.

Yesterday it looked like this. Today it got sunnier. Windier, just as cold, but sunnier. Sometimes. I did quit my class briefly this afternoon to have everybody look out the window at the setting sun lighting up the west wall of the library, which from our third-floor classroom several hundred yards up the quad seemed oh, I don't know, collegiate at the very least, if not verily and somehow magical. Whatever you do, I told them, if you write about this, do not call the light golden. But what if it is? they said. This is Creative Writing, I said. For fuck's sake, do not say the light is golden. Do not say it's all long and yellow. Do not say anything like that about it at all.

Winter—real, honest winter, bizarrely—rolls on. Cold again tomorrow. Enjoy, friends and fans of seasonally appropriate weathers.