The weather is starting to nestle into winter, but the sky hasn't yet gone gray. It's a sheer, uncomplicated blue, as clear and cold as the October chill. A few soft clouds pull apart on the horizon, shredding cotton over the pines. In the garden, the last flowers are starting to droop. The morning dew takes longer to evaporate, and the air is damp, like wet fur.

I'm always grateful for the skies around this time, because I know they won't last. A good sky is all about opportunity. The more you look for it, the greater chance you'll see it. When the sky is only lit a few hours a day, your chance of beauty diminishes. But, with that being said—I'll never say no to a paisley afternoon sunset.