Folklore...

 

Akron...

We're gonna need more salt.

And bigger shovels. 

I should say, it could be worse.
I could  be in Boston.

Frigid...

the snow sky is a 

beige flannel blanket that keeps

the warmth in heaven.

leaving the ice wind for us.

Next...

Winter squalls into

Spring sunshine. One more beam than

yesterday. Beauty.

Respite...

Today the sun shines

on brown grass that winter killed.

Tomorrow, more snow.

Baby, it's cold outside...

The blizzard missed us so all is not too terribly bad.
Six inches of snow, minor wind gusts. Pretty ho-hum until
I realized I had to shovel that white stuff off the drive-way
and the front stoop and sidewalk. Sister Ann helped.
We've gone through four bags of salt, so far. I love salt.
It means less shoveling.

Those whacko weather people are already twitching over
the next wave of weather they see that might bring more snow.
Who shovels the whacko weather people's driveways?
They spend all their time on TV screaming at us.

Next Thursday is Carol's surgery. Ann and I will take her and
stay through the evening, at least.
Carol has plans to go out New Year's Eve for dinner and a movie
with some lady friends from her church. I say woo-hoo!

Before all of that, Sunday is Ann's birthday. 
I'm taking her out for dinner and maybe a movie. If'n she wants.
She probably will.

My friend Jan, in Florida, is probably wearing flannel shirts to
stay warm. It's 71 there. *sigh*

Slow rain...

Three days like this. slow rain.
blanket gray sky. still air.
dull light.
and slow rain.

you must look for it on purpose.
no announcing rumble or
flashing light blades. only slow rain.

slow rain does not fall in drops, it seems.
but a veil of wet that lays itself
silently, softly across the outside world then gathers
tiny pellets that roll, slide
and dangle off all edges

slipping to the ground below.
slow drip...slow drip...slow drip.

all day. through the night.
slow rain.