Winter has Come

The starlight of misnothings. A palor that spreads beyond snowdrifted banks of wheaty golden. I tiresome breath that falls upon an old soul, causing him to shiver in the night. A wool blanked, rough and scratchy, pulled up to the neck. A ball of warm fuzzy purring in his lap.


I'm tired, and all I really want to do is post pictures. These are a few I took back in early October about 45 minutes away from Vassar.