Winters

Winters.

To him, winters were all about smoke. Smoke, haziness, wafts that arose and settled (rather naughtily) in nooks and corners.
The puffs of air that escaped when he wrinkled his nose in disgust. The slow measured stream of smoky breaths. Warming those frozen hands and creating a canvas on dusty widow panes.
The hot embers that sizzled under layers of ash. The coffee mug that warmed the tip of his frozen nose as he inhaled it.

The fog! Oh, that dreadful morose fog that swirled and descended every night. And was found cuddled and frozen on shivering leaves next morning.
Scattered lights, hazy windshields, spooky strangers,dusky afternoons and dark inky sky.

Summers! Summers were a Hawaiian shirt darned with multihued patches of colour.
Winters! Winters were all about smoke.