It was sunny when we left. It was sunny when we returned. In the hour between, my friend and I watched perpetual change unfold.
A dark gray haze moved across the path of the sun. Then, downy snowflakes began to collect, suspended in otherwise invisible webs.
Then, it was if we were standing in the middle of a long, midwinter snowstorm.
Soon enough, the sun was shining again, strong on our faces as we sat and watched the light accumulation disappear. Except, that is, in the shelter of the shadows of the trees. There, like lime on a baseball field, the boundaries of change were temporarily defined.