Yesterday the cold wind blew in.
As I was saying; we get these clear days in the Black Months every so often. This type - when the polar high blows in off the interior - is the more common. Typically we get anywhere from a day to a week of brilliantly clear, frigidly cold days and nights before the Rains return in a horrid pelter of ice and sleet and automobile wrecks. Oregonians are awful drivers in any sort of slick weather; they won't stay home but they won't chain or snow-tire up, either. Portland becomes a sort of Fellini movie only with more dented chrome.
The hard crystal-sunlight is almost worth the bitter cold.
Yesterday was Veteran's Day (you're welcome, and I happily accept American Express, VISA and Mastercard...) and the kids had the day off. We were drilling up in the West Hills and from the look of it several of the surrounding residences contained daughters in the same grade; fourth or fifth would be my guess. This little troupe came scampering out into the cold about mid-morning, raced through our work site in the winter coats and jammie bottoms - the last in line barefooted - up the steps to one of the girls' home where they proceeded to bounce shrieking on the outdoor trampoline for about three-quarters of an hour or so.
The girls slowly bounced to a stop and, after a pause for discussion and the hunting of coats and slippers (for those who had worn them), trooped back through our part of the street en route to another girl's house.
As the last girl, the one in the sock feet, reached the sidewalk she paused for a moment and looked around at the stained-glass leaves glowing in the late morning light.
"My feet are so freezing." she said to no one in particular, and then sprinted down the street to catch up with her friends.