(no subject)

A strangely mild, foggy, drizzly night. The sky is a sort of washed-out puce, dark grey overlain with pinky-orange, a shade that comes from the city lights reflecting off very low clouds, a sky you only get on late fall and winter nights. The wind is blowing, and in the back yard the birch leaves--brilliant gold in daylight--are, in the darkness, the same weird pale washed-out shade as the sky. It's very quiet, except for the movement of the wind, stirring the birch leaves.

I had a million things I wanted to post here, coming home from work in the daylight, but now I just think I'll watch another Millennium episode.