Sunday, January 4, 2009
My path up the hill is punching through icy snow; I look back, and it appears a giant has broken the crust of this white earth. When the dogs play, they burrow their muzzles into that crust, and it sounds like glass tinkling. Everything shines; the bokeh is glorious when the sun is lighting up the tips of branches. We didn't last long at the park though; it was in the single digits and the tips of our fingers, our chin, our noses began to burn and I'm still wearing my winter hat, hours later, along with two layers of socks and two pairs of flannel pajama pants. I'd crowed of how adapted to this weather I was to the incoming MFA students, those from the coast, from farther south, but this winter has been so much more brutal thus far: snowfall records being broken in neighboring states, ice storms making the backyard a rink. It's too beautiful to stay long indoors for long.