The Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting

Snow outlining tree branches this morning the way it used to do in Japan. Snow traceries on front lawn undergrowth this afternoon like just-before-Christmas. Not that just before Christmas does this anymore, or smells that particular childhood way-- cold-fresh with a hint of smoke and the inside of rubber galoshes. A fast trip to another season, the calm spaciousness of December (not that December is calm and spacious anymore either) and another time (1985, I think, given that my mind was vaguely focussed on Takuboku.)