When the morning comes, we will step outside

Here is perhaps the laziest photo I've ever taken for my blog readers. I took this picture this morning from my front porch. I stepped out wearing socks, not even bothering to put on my boots – or pants, for that matter – and snapped it quickly before ducking back into the warm house, where breakfast and a fireplace awaited me.

The weather here has been ridiculously and unseasonably warm; the ski centers were closed last weekend because we simply didn't have enough snow. No snow in Snowstorm Region! That is just wrong. I've barely even used my mittens so far this year, no less my snowboard. So I was thrilled this morning to wake up to a snowstorm, to look out and see the grass and trees all covered with white, to have winter return to this part of the country.

Fresh snow in the early morning turns my landscape into a monochrome. Drifts of white cover the ground, smoothing out any sharp edges, even the tree branches are puffed with snow, and the light turns everything grey or black. It's a muffled world without edges, without colour or noise.

Later in the day, the sun will rise higher, and the sky might turn a deep blue. The pine trees will show their green colour, the tree trunks will look brown, and subtle reddish tints will appear on the barberry bushes. The wind might stir the branches of the scotch pines, making that creaking noise, and dogs will go by with their owners, barking.

But early in the morning, my world is grey and white and soft. Simple.

I've been asking members of the household to give me titles for blog posts, and this one comes from Film Guy, who took it from the lyrics to a Midlake song.