It was a cold morning for a walk.
However, for me, a cold morning is my favorite kind of walk.
Snow was still on the grass from the first snowfall.
The plows and salt trucks had done a good job of taking care of the streets.
It was a quiet morning.
The sky was a wintry gray.
There was just a touch of orange where the sun was trying to break through.
The snow on the trees looked as if a painter had come along with a brush and some white paint.