Fog in the morning,
gray in the evening, grayness in between. . . .
trees reflected in a puddle in front of Town Square.
Late in the day we walked down to see how the snow sculptures were faring in the nearly-40-degree weather.
The squid has lost an arm, but its glare is as malevolent as ever.
The troll maintains its ugliness,
and the Snow Maiden her poise.
The bear's bridge sags alarmingly, and the salmon are melting away into the stream.
The carnival rides whirled and tossed --
at least after about noon, there's always someone willing to circulate, no matter how gray the sky.
The southwest sky beyond the railroad held some color in the early evening.
A single puffy cloud in the west.
Vertical lines.
On E between Third and Second, we checked out the pussy willows, and found another pink glove.
They haven't made much progress -- waiting for something closer to real spring, perhaps.
At Fire Island, new art by Monica O'Keefe -- "Winter Dream State," and
"Gentian Hill."
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