When one least expects it.

Perhaps you might have planned to walk straight home from the office, do a quick writing, and then climb into bed with The Emperor's Children. But then.

Then there was all that ice coating the trees, and your shaky hands that wouldn't let you capture what you saw, and all the people you saw in the middle of town in the middle of the night, and then once you got to the house and tried again and again to shoot the weird quasitransparency of iced branch tracing lamplight, you remembered that the tripod was right there inside, and so you tried again while something else held the camera, and by the time you shot and shot and shot some more, your toes had gotten cold and wet because you hadn't planned to be standing in the snow at all this evening, and now that you've come in the house, you see that two hours have passed, while you took your hundred huge digital shots, plus the twelve mysteries in the 35mm.

But the picture-making computer now lives in the officehouse, in the interests of your no longer using it in bed, and so the picture you uploaded before leaving for home (a non-snow interlude from the morning's snowshoot) will stand for now. And with only the briefest of greetings to those readers who found their way here this afternoon because of a particular Knox County landmark, you're off: back on the originally scheduled program of getting into bed with that book.