After holding off for a few weeks winter finally set in, a half foot of snow here, a half foot there, freezing rain, temperatures in the lower teens. At sunset yesterday the snow turned rose then faded through of shades of violet. It reminded me of the grove of white birches which used to catch the sunset the same way when I was a kid.

I thought about the perpetual argument between my father and a friend of his. They were both painters. The friend insisted water had its own color to be painted, while my father claimed that it took its color from the sky.

I agreed with my father for once. They're both gone now so the dispute will never be settled.