rejectomorph | Dropping

Dawn was a thin line of liquid gold light, compressed by leaden clouds which soon crushed it. Sprinkles and mists have ever since dampened the dim world on which the sun failed to rise. The cold has me expecting snow at any time. Dense vapors will likely conceal the moon all night, but their diffusion of its light will make the declining landscape vaguely visible. Sounds, too, are subdued on such nights, leaving the senses of touch and smell the predominant avenues of awareness. The cold air is redolent of damp soil, decaying leaves, wet pine trees, and of smoke from the town's fireplaces. It is a world of vegetable scents.

Above the clouds, the early stirrings of the Gemenids have begun. This is anticipated to be an active year for this display, but as its peak will come close to the moon's full, I am not expecting to see much even if the clouds do not cover the sky that night. December is too cold for meteor watching, in any case.

Via