the weather outside is frightful (or when art attacks)

This evening in the studio was cozy and pleasant.  Bend's first real snowstorm of the season rolled in this afternoon, and after a ninety-minute session in the hot and humid room at the Bikram  Yoga Studio, there was quite the accumulation when I trecked back downtown.   These last moments before the holidays arrive is the blessed calm before the storm.  All the artists are silly and kind of nostalgic, not quite rabid elves yet in a flurry to finish the numerous art projects, commissions, gifts, etc.  In fact, Cyr and I spent a good forty minutes looking through the hundreds of photos on her hard drive from the last two years of PoetHouse Goodness.
Now, back at home, the wind has picked up and the chill is still present in my room.  My roommate and fellow creative, Adina, made an installation piece for a show last spring that consisted of an old door, some photos, and found keys.  This summer, she installed it on the wall outside my room, and by outside my room, I mean out of doors.  I forget it is there until nights like these, when the wind picks up.  It's like Jack Frost has a battering ram.  
Kelty jumps every time the wind blows.