I was walking in the waning afternoon sunlight on streets eerily deserted, since most people were indoors getting ready to watch the Super Bowl. Smoke from
the odd chimney* drifted through the air, which seemed so aberrant on such a spring-like day and with so many trees in bushes already in full bloom. Still, it was lovely to amble around in such peace and quiet, with all the drama somewhere else for a change. And lovely, too, to catch the Sleeping Maiden’s profile, with her ridged hair cascading in the cloud-filtered light of a winter afternoon dressed in its best spring finery.
* Turns out that earlier in the morning out on Mare Island in Vallejo there was a massive four-alarm fire that destroyed a warehouse. Hence the drift of smoke in the air. That I assumed they came from chimneys is from a practice of reflexive habit, rather than reflective seeing. In my defense, it did look smokier through the trees in some places in the valley, and I just assumed the reason for it was local.