We went for our usual spring walk this morning and found that everything had turned to gray--the sky, the water, the air, even the pale woods and wintry grass. It wasn't quite raining, yet the mist left a gray feeling on the face, cold and wet and almost freezing. The forsythia made its first appearance, and we returned home to find our first robin hopping on the lawn. He was unfazed by the gray and enjoyed his wet grass with its bounty of worms for the taking.
Somehow, as we were out walking, I realized most definitely that this is my kind of weather--bracing, stirring, soft on the eye. This day was the wild and windswept sister of a fair, bright, spring day--no less beautiful, only misunderstood.