Out my window it is grey and there is this stuff, HAGL, they call it in Norwegian.  A fine, icy blend of hail and slushy rain.  Small uneven circles of ice are forming at the edge of our tiny beach, and all the ducks and swans are warm underneath wooden piers or in protected, grassy yet frozen wet areas.  How to explain just how stunning it is?  How the light is pushing through the grey mists, how the trees bend, bowing to the wind. The moss gripping the rocks my garden is this insane dense green-verdant carpet. And is it really gripping? Try to tear some of it off its rock and you can feel the pull like adhesive tape being ripped off a hairy arm.