The ice is still with us, but thankfully we didn’t lose power like so many around us did.  So I can just enjoy how pretty it is and not have to live with consequences.

The night before last I was riding the bus back to the car.  It was 5 p.m. and the sun was just going down.  The air had started to get that pink cast to it, and I wondered how the icy trees would look in the pink air.  Ann Arbor sits up on a ridge, and as the bus decended down past the University Hospital and over the Huron River I glanced back.  There was a row of trees at the top of the ridge, between me and the setting sun.  They were glowing bright fushia and peach and orange.  It looked as though they were covered in milions of tiny pink and peach lights.  I only got a glimpse, but it was something I’ll never forget.