Without a howl or whistle of the wind snow fell during the night, only a coupe of inches, if that. A nice white blanket which would have been more appreciated on Christmas day. But the clouds have no idea of what dy of the month it is. This photo was outside my bedroom window when the sun had come up but was still mostly behind clouds. This kind of snowfall is perfect -- a pretty blanket, but easy to brush off a car, causing no driving problems. Winter is here.
Large parts of the country have massive amounts of snow. We are lucky. I actually stayed in and read the year end musings in the NYTimes. Pages of photographs of war, unrest pain in many parts of the world during the past year. And those, of course, only a hint at the actuality. Year end is a time for contemplation.
I have been trying to write a poem contrasting the hubbub inside Rachel' house with family all gathered and gifts galore, especially for the children, with my short (two blocks) walk home. I haven't managed to capture the inside part yet. But here is the second part:
White moon, rag-clad with cloud tatters
nesting in unwelcoming bare branches above
dense dark on sidewalk-less street.
Still, cold air, quiet, no traffic,
alternate world at day's end,
enfolding walking woman on soft soled shoes.
Silent night, peaceful night, all is calm,
all is right.
Yes, this is a quilt. I didn't make a note, but I believe it is by the well-known art quilter Barbara McKie and that the bears are thread painted. It seems very appropriate as winter set in around the county.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!