The last day of the old year

~The last day of the old year was one of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombarded us with their brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love.~

-Lucy Maud Montgomery

Almost the last day of the old year, and brilliant winter sunshine, crisp and cold air.  

We could see our breath as Gar and I walked Crescent Park early that morning.  We had been given a gift that Christmas week, a treasured gift of unusually beautiful weather.

Hoar frost, and foggy clouds of mist emanated from the ground, as the sunlight pierced the forest floor. There was very little noise from the trees, the birds were silent, and only one squirrel dared to show itself as it darted up a tree.

The frozen drops of rain started to fall from the branches onto our heads, sparkling like a drift of glitter on a perfect Christmas card.  

And we knew that this was the parting gift of an old year.