Wednesday, the weather was pretty nice. I buzzed around, taking down things in the yard I had up all summer and storing them away until next spring. Thursday? Well, Thursday was an entirely different story. An interesting thing: Our last snow occurred May 4 and our first snowfall this year occurred December 5, almost exactly seven months between snows. Is there some significance in that? I made a picture last night, out my back door over-looking the deck. First, we had sleet mixed with freezing rain, then snow. It fairly chills a person to look at the picture! This morning, snow is still swirling, thick and fast. Thankfully, we have electricity which, I fear, cannot be said of my friends in the River Valley.
Inside my house, all is cozy and warm with the fireplace and furnace going, the Christmas tree alight. I made a picture of part of my Christmas tree to show you an eggshell. Yes, an eggshell that has lasted for 25 years. I’ve made tree decorations out of gourds, seed pods, and egg shells. I painted this one in 1991 and every year, I carefully wrap it and put it away. The penguin is an eggshell too, a lot of fun and easy to make, but not quite as old as the caroling cat. By the way, if you can’t see the egg-shell ornaments very well, just click on the picture and it will enlarge to a nice size.
I’m not sure what odd quirk exists within me (well, OK, there are a few) but when a storm threatens, I want to be sure everyone is safe and snug inside their homes. It must be the mother hen instinct. Probably it’s the same feeling that causes people to flock to grocery stores and clean the shelves of food and water when the weatherman’s forecast is ominous. It’s nice that my family and friends check to be sure I have everything I need and I, likewise, check on them. I so appreciated Peg yesterday as she went to the store, phoning to ask if she could bring me anything.
The snow has turned my part of the world into a Christmas card. It has made my mailbox and yard a thing of beauty. This lovely snowfall reminds me of an old hymn, “No other fount I know can make me white as snow; nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
And, wouldn’t you know, it also reminds me of a poem I wrote once upon a time:
Winter Lullaby
by Blanche Day Manos
A cricket creaks its slumber song beside the fireplace glow,
While posts and picket fence outside wear rounded mounds of snow.
The winter eve is etched in white, all softness, still and deep,
And, drowsy watching falling flakes, the world drifts into sleep.
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