I first noticed them after I'd left my employer's office on Langensalzastraße. Jets were threading the azur expanse above with tightly coiled plumes.
As I entered the U-Bahn at Waterloo, the lower left tendril of a swollen "X" sliced the sky.
But the best was yet to come. On my way to the Real market on Davenstedterstraße, perfectly framed by the wall of flats on the right, bisected by tram lines and backlit by the waning sun, six shafts of crystalline vapor.
It doesn't take much to please me, I suppose, but this display topped off an already terrific day. Winter is cowering...