Frosty-morning

if you start living for the smallest reasons, that’s when you know you’re really living. the smell of rain after a thunderstorm, the shades of pavements when it’s autumn, the harvest season and the unspoken competition to pick the freshest tomatoes, the mediocre midnights and the color of the sunsets, the smell of bakeshops early in the morning, the frosty breeze of the fast-approaching winter, the warmth of oven when baking christmas cookies, the thickness of paper when flipping through magazine pages, the smell of new books and new clothes and new things. when you start looking at things, really really looking, you’ll start living. because then you’ll understand how it is to really be a human in this world full of people.
—  and that is what we consider magic

There’s something interesting around every turn at Badlands National Park in South Dakota. You’ll see colorful rock formations, a mind-blowing collection of fossils, wildlife like bighorn sheep, bison and prairie dogs, and sunrises that will inspire you. In sunlight or snow, the park’s 244,000 acres offer a tempting reason for you to get outside and explore. Photo by National Park Service.

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad; and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one’s ramble was over, and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries
—  Kenneth Grahame - The Wind in the Willows
if you start living for the smallest reasons, that’s when you know you’re really living. the smell of rain after a thunderstorm, the shades of pavements when it’s autumn, the harvest season and the unspoken competition to pick the freshest tomatoes, the mediocre midnights and the color of the sunsets, the smell of bakeshops early in the morning, the frosty breeze of the fast-approaching winter, the warmth of oven when baking Christmas cookies, the thickness of paper when flipping through magazine pages, the smell of new books and new clothes and new things. when you start looking at things, really really looking, you’ll start living. because then you’ll understand how it is to really be a human in this world full of people.
—  via @wizdomly
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Frosted is very happy to be out on a frosty morning.

Cold Frosty Morning
Dylan Klebold
Cold Frosty Morning

Dylan singing in his lil’ heart out falsetto on that cold, frosty morning  “ La-da-dadaaa….”

I get the sense that Dyl was always kind of singing, humming or snapping his fingers to some tune floating around in his head - whether it be an actual song from an album or something completely strung together in his mind.  It’s like the mathematical rhythm of musical beats and melodies were cycling around in his head continually. So it wouldn’t be uncommon for him to just express himself with goofy little ditties like this one throughout the day. It’d come out in little spurts sort of like his little ‘arrgh!’ annoyance sounds.  

Now that I have the audio capture down, I’ll be posting a Dyl audio montage one of these days.  Haha. oh yasss.. ;)