Sunday, 20 December 2009
Let It Snow
It's coming. It's on us. A nor'easter tracking up the coast leaving deep snow as it goes. Like birds flocking to the feeders people mob the supermarkets. What, I wonder, does one do with extra gallons of milk, loaves of bread, and all the other comestibles stacked in the snaking like of carts inching their way towards the checkout registers. Guilty, I was among the throngs. What was in my cart? Apples, pears, potatoes, carrots. A bulb of fennel, kale, some butter. Two 5-pound bags of bread flour. A few more items, just enough to ban me from the "12 items or less" lines. But that was yesterday. This morning is gray. A few flakes midmorning, testing the water so to speak. Early afternoon it got serious, the weather did, with dancing curtains of flakes outside the windows. Into the night and the wee hours of the morning.
Now it is the following morning.
About 9 inches, allowing for the drift around the ruler.
View out a window on the northwest side of the house, snow piled up on the windowsill.
Grumpy, Fog cat insisted, demanded, yowled to be let out.
So I did. He tracked close to the house where the snow was thin.
Briefly sat on the bench. Then decided perhaps in was better than out.
My toolshed looks like a forester's cottage from a folk tale. "There in the woods
was a little wooden shed, its two window boxes blossoming with snow, not flowers."
Dave, bless him, came by and plowed our driveway at 3:00 a.m. Wouldn't know. I was
sound in the arms of Morpheus, snuggled on flannels sheets under the lamb's wool comforter.
Paul did some shoveling to tidy the edges and the front walk. Look at the dunce caps of snow.
The main woodpile by the basement door is stacked and accessible, 3 cords of wood for winter.
This is some extra, not so much in case of need but an early start on next winter's wood supply.
We burn it up, you see.
This dragon stays cozy on the chimney pipe, liking fire, as do all dragons.