Jan 16
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955)
Soft, white powder fell gently from the sky as Ziva David stood by her window. Outside, the cool, crisp air bothered her, turning her nose red, but from the safety of her apartment, she enjoyed this weather.
Although Israel experienced snow in winter, she much preferred summer. Not the heatwaves where it was so hot she felt as though she would melt into a puddle, the days where any form of exercise felt unnatural or the thick humidity made it hard to breathe. It was the warm nights, the cool evenings, the beauty of the sun as it rose in the morning to light the world and the stunning colors cast as it set.
There was something about a gentle breeze in summer that made her smile. A contrast to the warm, still air that made the moment perfect. And rain. Normally, rain was either a nuisance or to be used as cover during a mission. But hot, fat raindrops pouring from the heavens after a few days of unbearable heat made her want to dance in the water, to celebrate.
The snow continued to fall outside and she wondered whether she would be snowed in overnight. Perhaps she would allow Tony to instruct her in the correct method to make a snowman. She could always hit him with a snowball if he mentioned her red nose.