Hail is bouncing off the roof next door. Occasionally, puffy snowflakes fall, while the southwest wind blows rain onto the window. The Port Hills are obscured behind grey cloud; it will be snowing up there. Now and again, the sun comes out. I’ve replenished the bird feeders. It’s 1.6 degrees outside.

Yesterday I biked home from watercolour class against a warm nor-west wind and the washing on the line was crisp and dry by early afternoon. Today, Mum and Felix are in their armchairs by the fire.