Mountain and pine landscape in a dome shape on a calf

The west bulkhead fogged again last night, the way it does when the scrubbers run cold, and I spent the shift with a rag and my thumbs trying to clear a square of it. Under the grime I found that the old pane still holds Grandfather's sunset, the one he scratched into the plastic with a hot nail the year before the transfer. Ridge, ridge, ridge, then the two tall pines he insisted were firs. You never believed him. I never corrected you.

The rota says we get the outer ring for three days in March, which means a real view of the ringshadowed sky through the dome if the sensors agree. Ops has put in a request for reflective film on the next resupply, but the manifest was cut again, so I have been making do. I have a tin of green pigment from the hydroponics bay and a jar of blue from the water lab.

Yesterday I painted the ridges back in, black lines first, then the purple, and I finished the stars with a toothbrush and the last of the white. It looks like the postcard he sent us, if the postcard had been drawn by someone who had only heard about mountains. The pines are slightly too tall. I think he would have liked that.

Come home at the end of the contract, or at least write back. The tin is nearly empty and I want to know what colour you would use for the sky over the place you're going.