Today is a day of the greatest clarity brought on by a night of heavy rains and deliberate winds leaving a morning breaking with great gray billowing clouds lumbering slowly across the valley floor that falls softly away to the distant foothills and the mountains darkly heaved against the horizon. One of the beautiful things about living here is the consistency of the seasons and their predictable generalities, but just as marvelous is their unpredictable moments that fall so suddenly upon the valley placing everything in a different perspective, becoming then a true anointment of grace.

But change brings too a remembered early day in August, when the heat of summer had reached its zenith for too many days and the longing for the cooler days of fall and winter became a passion somehow missed, when suddenly a tempest came built off the western coast and blew all those flotillas of mixed white and gray and darker clouds that rose in the sky like great cascading sails across our valley bringing with them those nostalgic memories of wintry chill that only amnesia gives special meaning to.

The sun however has now swung to a different quarter, lighting the western horizon with a later definition encasing it in fuller exposure to the south, where the beaches of Rio de Janero are summer, which we dream of, knowing the warm sand between our toes on the beaches, and afternoons napping in siestas of slumbering dreams.

We do, however, in this northern clime, have those crisp mornings where the sharpened details of the sky are like the smell of just cooked bread in wood-fired stoves, and the sound of laughter from children just awakened from their feathered beds and running downstairs to the warm kitchen for breakfast and steaming cups of chocolate, speaking excitedly of a day outdoors, playing in the snow.

Kae Quante

Montague