Slow storm days

 

2026 - Ice Storm, Barn Tree

Hello Friend, 

I write from the safety of what was previously my great-grandfather's desk. It's strewn mostly with my jewelry, perfume samples, a mug filled with paintbrushes, pencils, and scissors. School readings sit in a pile by my feet (Athelston, Ezra Pound's A Retrospect, and a collection of Northern Irish poetry), as does my sewing machine. What can I say? I'm a woman of many hobbies. 

I've been doing lots of fun things today, like calling my insurance and scheduling an appointment to get my wisdom teeth removed (I am very wise and possess all four). 

But enough about insurance calls. 

Yesterday was much cozier. I woke up with a slight chill and pulled my curtains to the side, finding a sheen of ice had turned the yard into a smooth mirror. The yarrow and bare native azalea outside my window were frothy chandeliers in the defused light. As I was drinking my coffee, standing in the kitchen, I watched a lone pair of geese at the edge of the pond. One of them slipped into the water as the local heron stalked closer. I felt bad for the heron; he looked cold and wet. 

We took a walk outside, chatting with the neighbors as they sledded down icy hills. None of the horses were in the fields, but there were plenty of crows around, little inkblots against the ground. The icy grass was fun to walk on, lots of good crunching to be had. 

My parents walking through the woods

I ate chili, apples, cheese, and banana bread. Two cups of tea and coffee.  

When dusk arrived, I slipped outside. The woods were sufficiently spooky in the darkness, my breath a fog machine in the flashlight. I took some photos of the weeds by the roadside, then went back home. 

Aforementioned weeds by the roadside

My Grandfather has been staying with us, and we've been watching movies each night. The list goes something like this;

1. Sound of Music (1965)

2. The Wind Rises (2013)

3. Belfast (2021)

Last night was Les Misérables (2012), which was well received by my Mother and Grandfather (I hadn't seen it since I was ten).

I'm sorry if this is a boring letter, but that's life. What's fun to live isn't always fun to write about. I've got to wash my sheets now. 

Stay safe and warm,

Mary W.