Winter came in with a vengeance last night. I didn't feel it as much as I heard it. It hitched a ride on a wild west wind and galloped into our neighborhood in the middle of the night. It roared and growled, set the bamboo a rat-tat-tatting against the house and drove the wind chimes into overdrive.
It's Arctic air, the weather folks say. I say it's Winter and it's angry, ready to take back its time. Enough of this balmy rain, this blooming-time air. This is the real thing. It keeps us inside and drives newly landed birds deep into thickets, where they fluff themselves up to wait it out.
I wait it out, too. Maybe I'll walk at noontime, when the sun has some power over the cold and the wind has subsided, even a little.