I haven't missed the endless, dreary nights, but I have missed the clarity and starkness and beauty of moonlight on snow.
I dragged myself out of Jake's arms at the second alarm this morning. I pulled on my robe (on the last legs of its terrycloth and flannel life) and staggered through the tapestry into the room that serves as kitchen, living room and study, where I found a square of light on the floor.
I looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it was, lying on the floor, and hoping I didn't trip over it, before I realized it was moonlight through the window. I rubbed my eyes and went to the window. There is just a little snow leftover from the weekend; the barest, fluffy layer left where no one has walked. Just enough to turn the driveway blue and light up the forest.
It was nice to wake up to. And driving in, there was a brilliant sunrise across the entire horizon, glorious colors, stunning mountainscape.
It's nice to live in a place of such beauty.