With a small fire in the wood stove, all day, and a white cloud outside. Light snow falling off and on, a thin crust of ice on things this afternoon. It’s an inside day, and soft as… a snowflake, a down pillow, a requiem. A black and white day, starting with vintage news coverage of Kennedy’s assassination. Back when anchors had time to process the news they were delivering on TV. Then classic rock on KVNF all day, interspersing dishes and sweeping and stoking the fire with writing toward my 50,000 words in November. Morning Rounds didn’t happen til almost five o’clock; an owl whoooed out through foggy junipers somewhere toward the canyon, softness continued to fall.