Sometimes we must venture out.

It snowed again. The previous day's slush caps refroze and had their peaks dusted with white. The shape of the frozen slush reminded me of the doughnut holes my mom would fry up for us when I was growing up. Perhaps I am the only person who would look at a wintry scene and think of doughnuts covered in powdered sugar and bubbling hot oil. Regardless, these thoughts of fried dough made my morning commute warmer.