As I walk outdoors I am first aware of the temperature. The sweep of sunlight I watch wash across the fields is also taking the edge of the chilly air. Thoughts turn inward and as they drift they tug at the iron fence now more like a loopy thread of yarn.
Shadows in the foliage become shattered shapes that drift away from each other like bits of ice that have been cracked in a pretty pattern. I am not only moving forward, but in and out, one foot in the external world of my senses and the other in the conceptual wonderland of my mind.