Remember that Midwest blizzard I was complaining about? Well, it hasn't stopped. Snowing that is, and blowing snows and dropping temperatures down to the bottom, zero and below. We didn't get our mail yesterday and that is most unusual, because our rural mail delivery is always there in bad weather. Who knew our road would be impassible even for the postman? Well, soup's on tonight, and we are just thankful that we have a good neighbor who plows great heights of snow with his tractor, and a great rural co-op to keep the power on and us warm.
Ralph Waldo Emerson still speaks to our times in his snow poem...
"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm."
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