The air is so cold it slices your lungs. Moisture can't decide how to condense and precipitate so it adheres to everything like a thin glass veneer. Power lines are strung with the clearest crystal pendants; trees are coated with a glistening, frozen skin. Minus ten in March is a nice reminder of winter's long grip on PEI.
In contrast to the weather, the reception which awaited me on my return was as warm as you can imagine. Settling back in was smooth and easy.
On Sunday we took a walk in the frigid air, pushing the buggy along sidewalks rutted with ice. I fell to earth with a huge bang. Michelle says my feet scooted right off the ground in front of me, cartoon style, as I thumped onto the ice. Now I am nursing a tender bruised back and elbow. Hmph!
