I like to think of January here as an apology for November. November is dark, damp, cold, and gray – oppressively, endlessly, hopelessly gray. December is brighter because of the lights at the Christmas market and the crispness that sharpens in the air as fall unfurls itself as winter.

And then there’s January, our month of big skies, fresh cold, and spectacular sunsets. Watching night fall is watching an artist at work.

Accustomed to this in January, we were surprised by the days of fog that limited visibility just to the end of the courtyard. The world melted away into white, into gray, and January gave us November vibes.

But the air was full of crystals, and the crystals created their own art.

I was surprised by the brightness of the kitchen this morning and looked up to see the half-moon that had created a reflection of window panes on the floor. The sky was newly clear and I could see the sun beginning to rise as I rode my bike through cold that crackled, everything still covered in last night’s frost. This was January as we know it, coming back after a short rest.

I was glad to welcome her.