Greeting the cold air after Pilates class held a surprise for me - glittering snowflakes that kissed my face as I dashed home. Through an entire block of Bute, a thick scent emerged and kept changing, though remained true to the theme of smoldering incense.
Woodstove smoke -- hot candle wax -- incense -- burnt cedarwood -- overheated vintage perfume that was left too close to the central heating -- more incense smoke.
I live for moments of contrasts like this.And just to make things better, I crept out of bed in my nightgown and furry neck warmer to roll my first ball of fresh snow that piled up on my balcony.