View From the Street

I'm outside getting the newspaper from the driveway. It's around 630 in the morning. Things are a little damp, but the paper is tightly secured in a long plastic bag and sealed with a rubber band. I save these bands in a small plastic baggie until it's bursting, then I take them down to the flower vendor at the Market, who is happy to have them. At least I think he's happy; maybe he just tolerates an old lady's frugality.

With the Christmas tree down, this is the light that spills out into the front yard. Nothing much is happening at this hour, although at the far end of the street the trash collectors have started their morning pickup and I can hear the truck beeping as it backs up. It will rain later, but right now there is only a hint of something stirring, not the metallic tang of snow, but a more subtle anticipation.