Thursday, February 11, 2010

in the heat of the night

First of all, when Madison skies are this blue in February, you know it's a cold day.


When the only booth on Library Mall is one where a vendor sells fleece wraps, and those fleece wraps are flying as if they were kites gone wild -- it's really really cold.


When Bascom Hill looks enchanting and a little remote, Canadian almost -- I'm reminded that we're still in deep winter.


And when the bus stop is deserted, but for a brave lass with a very furry hood and her ever loyal, no matter what the weather, boy, perhaps friend, it has to be a a sign. Of something. Maybe a sign that I should get home already.


Home. Such a pleasant idea at the end of the week. And it's unusually pleasant in a challenging sort of way as I have a lunch to prepare for tomorrow. For twelve people. At my house. At noon. And I cannot be home just before the first guests arrive. So that the entire meal has to be cooked in advance. I am, at the moment grilling things. At midnight.

I think it's still cold outside, but I wouldn't know. The stove has been working overtime.

les Demoiselles at the bus stop

There are, during winter, these fabulously decadent moments when you close your eyes and put your face to the sun and it feels sooooooo luxurious, because the warmth on your skin is so rare now, and because this is something that you imagine happens more in the Alpine regions, among ski bunnies. Not on a Wednesday afternoon in downtown Madison. Just off of Park Street.

But, on days that I can, I have been snatching a few seconds of just this: sunshine, hitting a small corner of the sidewalk, at the Park Street bus stop.

Today, I am not the only one.


Their eyes are not closed, but they have that radiant winter look that comes to those who love, love, love the cold outdoors (or those who wear make-up that gives such an impression). Especially today, on this sumptuous day in the Alps... well, actually at the bus stop.