Sun came up a boiling pink ball through the 20 degree haze, nice view of it while feeding chickens. Daughter was watering cats in the granary, I met her on the path and we took a moment to soak it in. Even the dang jet contrails looked acceptable, salmon-tinged as they were. They formed the Roman numeral IVI, not sure of the significance, and the chickens seemed unconcerned.
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