Shivering on a short walk with Copper yesterday, I pondered how long it is till next summer, telling myself I have to do better. And, very shortly afterward, I did. I went for my own walk and, because it was brisker, the ole bod heated up, the everyday miracle of pumping blood.
And it was while on that walk that I thought about how cold air differs from warm, the way it smells — or doesn't. The way it tingles in the fingers and takes away the breath.
Soon I'll grow used to it, but these first few days it's an alien creature, something I welcome only cautiously back into my life.