room with a view

The des-pi-ca-ble Winter Storm has passed. Like an uninvited relative you've dropped off down at the bus station, your hope is that it's stuck on a journey East in the aisle seat next to a loud talker with a hacking cough describing in detail his unnecessary surgery.

Yet the wind is still howling and the sun is out. The huge spruce just outside my window is carrying the burden of heavy snow on its bent limbs, but it is a beautiful sight from where I sit. A gust, and a clump of snow loses its footing and slips from the roof with a dull thud. It's the only sound I hear. Another gust, and fine particles resembling white sand swirl down in the sunlight and become dazzling diamonds.

On the highway I can see 18 wheel giants ride at normal speed through the packed ice and snow, while the little ones are hesitant with drivers that are no doubt leaning forward, concentrating hard and gripping the steering wheel with all their strength, like a man with pancakes and sausage beginning to backup trying to ignore a nagging passenger.

Another clump of snow commits suicide. The coffee is steaming my glasses when I sip and it tastes mighty good on days like these. Now for some Nat King Cole to break the silence.