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Okay, now it's a Blizzard Warning with 20-30 inches of snow.

Remind me again why we moved to Massachusetts??!?!

Wasn't it fog that crept in on little cat feet?

A light, chilly dust is falling,
soon to spread over and cover
yesterday's frozen remains.
Soft crystals marred by salt and dirt -
bitter, hard, crusty ruts of ugliness -
to be whitewashed, blanketed, made anew
by drifts of clean and perfect precipitation.

If only it was so easy for me,
like the snow,
to cover yesterday's bitter awkwardness
with the quiet beauty of fresh powder.

~//~

The snow is beginning to fall, quiet wisps of fluff, and the hibernation begins. The plan is for my Jennifer to return from work, come home to a hot dinner, after which we will lock ourselves in our home and in each other until the windgusts cease and the drifts settle. We'll amuse ourselves with blankets, movies, cocoa, and each other, emerging eventually to dig out and start fresh. I hope it all turns out as serene and restful as I am making it sound.

Perhaps we'll find the spirit and the desire to enjoy a bit of the weather before responsibilities and obligations begin to weigh us down for the upcoming week. Perhaps we'll flip pancakes and exchange smiles easily and effortlessly. Perhaps the stresses of daily life can go on without us for a day, a week, a year, a lifetime.

~//~

Habitation
by Margaret Atwood

Marriage is not
a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder;

the edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn

the edge of the receding glacier

where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
this far

we are learning to make fire