Crazy Legs and a Bright Spot

Flying the freak flag with my Peter Max prints and the chunky shoes.

The crazy leg parade continues and it's just about the only bright spot around here. I am thinking with a great deal of envy about all the people off to warm climates where the sun is shining. Or someplace It's grey. And as pretty as these bursts of snow are - it's the wet stuff that falls off the branches quickly and are reflected in grey, endless, endless grey skies. The branches are a tired grey, the roads are a tired grey, the snowbanks are a tired grey. Late winter has settled in and the theme is no longer white, it's grey. I know the sun is up there somewhere but long ago the ancients probably had weeks like these where they just had to wonder if the sun would ever return - and this not so ancient has weeks (or at least days) where I wonder too.