On top of the world

There ARE certain advantages to living at the top of a hill as I do. . . IF you can overlook the inevitable hair-raising, pee-in-your-pants, white-knuckle drives sliding up and down The Hill to work in the winter.

I can. Most of the time.

This morning's walk with Ben is one reason why.

While lower Bermtopia sits shrouded in thick, dense fog -- always a problem at the end of January -- we on The Hill usually wake to clear (or almost) clear skies that slowly fade from brilliant cobalt into dreamy shades of pale, frosty pink and lavender as the sun climbs in the east.

This morning, instead of the park, Ben and I headed north-northwest into the neighborhood. We like to keep tabs on who still has Christmas decorations up (don't get me started) and who hasn't cleaned up after last week's snow and ice storm. We always pay our regards to the chickens kept at the house on the corner of 18th and Madison, then turn around and walk back up the hill to home.

And here's what we saw:



Yes.

I have to say.

I'm feeling on top of the world.