  
 
Gazing out the window of my office, there's the white of the snow in the parking lot, tinged blue in the low light of a cloudy winter dawn. Across the road, beyond the snow drifts, I can see the dull indigo of the roof on the seafood processing plant. Beyond, I observe the expanse of slate grey water in the bay; at its far edge, a thin white line of surf pounds on the distant shore. The beach is lined with a spruce forest colored midnight blue, and above the uneven tree line, the sky ascends in a gradient of dark to pale steel. A near-full moon betrays its presence behind rapidly shifting clouds. I am fortunate.
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