“I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter.”
Posted January 27, 2026 by katryCategories: Uncategorized
I am in a fortress made of snow, well covered in snow anyway. I can’t get out. The front door is snowed in and in the backyard, the gate won’t open because of the fallen branch cross it. The dogs are fine and are using the dog door. I just wish they could shovel. Henry and Nala are having their morning naps, Henry upstairs and Nala on the couch. I fed Jack. He was purring, happy for company and his treats. I can see my newspaper on top of the snow plow pile. It taunts me.
When I was around 11 or 12, on a school snow day, my friend and I decided to make some money shoveling. We did one house and split the money. It wasn’t much as we were too young to realize the money value of our labor. At the second house, we started together, but she ditched me, left me stranded in the snow. I stayed because we had made a deal, contracted to shovel her walkway and front porch. The shoveling took a long time. The lady of the house kept making sure I was okay. When I was finished, she invited me inside. She gave me some tea and cookies. She paid me more than I had asked. The cookies were sugar cookies and delicious. I went home after that proverbially dragging my shovel behind me. I felt rich and full of cookies. My friend avoided me for a while.
I saw paw prints across my front yard this morning. They went right by the front steps. I don’t know what animal made them. I just know it wasn’t a dog. Henry missed the interloper so I figure the incursion happened during the late night or very early in the morning. Henry barks at everything.
The sun is out, but everything looks a bit hazy in the light. It is 20°. The snow world looks pretty through the inside windows of my house. I am warm, the coffee is still hot. I haven’t and won’t get dressed. I am going nowhere.
(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave: Martha and the Vandellas
Posted January 26, 2026 by katryCategories: Video
“Snowflakes are one of nature’s most fragile things, but just look what they can do when they stick together.”
Posted January 26, 2026 by katryCategories: Musings
The dogs chose not to go out last night. Once I pushed the door open they each looked and backed into the kitchen. They are not dumb animals. This morning they had no choice. They peed in tandem then Henry ran a bit and Nala did her zoomies. Both are now sleeping on the couch. They are exhausted.
We have so much snow I will be hibernating. The spring robin and I will emerge when the world is warmer and the gardens have green shoots. My car is backed into the driveway and has been blocked by a mountain of plowed snow. I swear I heard someone singing about the hills being alive, the plowed mountain is that big.
I have no shovel and no snow blower. I had a plow guy who borrowed my shovel a couple of years ago, the last time he plowed for me. He just never came back, never called. He still has my shovel.
My muse has left for sunnier climes. One of my students posted a comment that Bolga is hot, hot, hot (her words). She wants snow. I want hot. Too bad we can’t trade at least for a little while.
Because the snow has me housebound, I am left me yet again to my own devices. I could clean (oh, the horror), read or watch movies, but that is what I have been doing for the last few days. I need diversions. Maybe I’ll just join the dogs on the couch if they’ll let me.
I have not been baiting the mouse hotels for the last couple of days. I don’t want to catch any. I can’t relocate them with the snow covering everything, and I won’t dispatch them to their heavenly rewards. They get a couple of free days.
In January 1969, on a Sunday, I got a special delivery letter congratulating me on being selected for the Peace Corps. I would be going to Ghana. I had to look in an atlas to pinpoint where Ghana is in Africa. I knew nothing about it. The pages I found told me imports and exports, major crops, currency, topography, social hierarchy, climate and major cities. Ghana was reduced to a couple of geography classes. At staging, before we left, I saw slides of Ghana. I was still caught in the pages of a geography book. To complete the scene, I just needed a nun in front reminding us to pay attention and be quiet.
I have found an old black and white science fiction movie from 1951, Lost Continent. Right now they have just climbed an obviously fake mountain to the top looking for their wayward rocket. They lost one man on the climb. I guess I’ll keep a head count. At the top of the mountain is a strange world. Everything is green, even the dinosaurs.
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