A mustard coloured sky...

Its icy spore stings my cheeks but fails to find purchase. . . this time. Tomorrow, I shovel.

I’m speechless (mainly because I don’t know where this thread is going).

First sentence is puuurdy, though…

The sky is blue, and I just shovelled 3 weeks worth of dog poop. The verdant stench clung to my hands until I washed them.

Well. I feel better, having contributed. Carry on.