![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEb88aBq_4JLwtUmw95PFyrapWoOCYfeVGuY9CQEtdVZMcpUoDyhuOhyphenhyphenpsgQKgL2fEyFIcR38PYApjg14UKym0hF9Co5BYhnt9uA1b5BOAOJJH-XPjot4LSRGnx1l790SF5JpoVYo_WY/s200/clouds.jpg)
The forecast wasn't great; I stayed outside making the most of the faux spring for as long as I could, pottering around, meditating on all manner of things, before indoor tasks demanded my attention.
The grey clouds have now crept over, the wind is getting up and, I suspect, the rain is on the way. C'est la vie - it is winter after all.
I am reminded of a little poem I wrote a few years back:
Bleak, grey canopy
The storm clouds conspire to hide
Their silver lining
Copyright © David Robinson 2002
www.bleakumbrella.com
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