This morning when I rose
at 4:30 a.m. the dark sky was pricked with stars, clear and hard and true. It is the final Monday of December, the last Monday of the year.
We had some warmth over the weekend, enough to melt much of the snow built up on Washington Street, not enough to melt all of it. The land is still covered in a layer of white, and our driveway is slick in places still. All and all, not yet a winter that we'd want to run from. We who think we are so tough, to endure out here in the north country. Oh, we are toughened, sure, and the cold does not hurt us so much as it hurts those who are not used to it. Yet this is nothing to brag of: there are others who handle the heat and humidity better than we do.
We are so white here, so German and Nordic and white. As if this northern European latitude and weather is what we are born to. I cannot believe it is so simple as evolving for a northern climate. Yet even as I say that, I think of the Eskimos, eating a diet high in fat yet not having the problems associated with such a high fat diet. So perhaps there is something to what we've evolved for.
Blue sky this morning. Sun. Two jets scratching the sky, moving westward. Tracks in the snow on the pond. Someone feels comfortable with the thickness of the ice.
Hoarfrost clings to the branches of trees, both the naked branches of the deciduous trees and the fleshy green of the pines. In the country, tall stalks of weed are weighted with hoarfrost too. In the distance, the tops of silos shine. They shine!
There are dirty snowbanks on the west side of Highway E. Some of the snow has disappeared from the fields; we can see the dark furrows dreaming.
Power is still out in the southeastern United States. Four thousand people in Washington State are stranded by snow. Winter is tough this year, but not tough for us. Yet.
Comments