The path is buried under a light layer of snow.
The trees are glittering. The air is crisp and coldish. Not yet very cold, but no longer just cool.
Is it weird that the Mr. gave me heck for using a paring knife to carve the ends on these just enough for me to be able to fit them into my sharpener? He said, "I got you a Leatherman with a knife on it so you wouldn't use the kitchen knives anymore."