The snow is still deep in the pasture. It lies mostly unbroken, smooth and undulating. Grass mounds and other hidden treasure lie beneath the snow making the contour uneven. Fresh as the snow is, it isn’t really white. It’s a bit grey and a bit blue too. I look up at the early morning sky. It is as though the ground has been inverted and pinned to the sky, the clouds mirror images of the pasture’s snow. I briefly wonder what kind of clouds they are. Cumulus? Stratocumulus? Cumulonimbus? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. They are the same not white as the snow, the same unbroken, undulating smoothness.The sky above me an inverted version of the ground beneath me. I wonder what it means.
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