Not until Tuesday, they forecast, and flurries at that. But the sky outside looks like –ah, it’s changed since I last looked up, and now the blue is showing. Wanting snow on a Sunday is akin to wanting a holiday on top of a holiday. For me, snow frees up thinking. Oh, what could I write with snow falling outside and a plateful of warm brownies by my side. I read the Times online. Madison Smart Bell wrote a very good essay in the the Times about Haitian literature. I put potatoes to boil, got some curtains up, and went to yoga. Now I watch the sky again, a moody blue, the color of school uniforms that have long faded. There is a story called “The Cloud Maker” by a French author whose name I can’t remember–Escarpit?–about a factory that matter-of-factly produces clouds. Well, somewhere behind this blue rests a sunset.