The woodpile is buried in snow.  So is everything else, for that matter.  But the wood is important.  It heats the house and the water.  I should probably clear that snow off before it freezes tonight and makes grabbing a log ten times harder, but my back is already killing me from this morning’s shoveling extravaganza.  I ran out into a field just before dark last night, when there were still only a few inches on the ground.  The land down here is rolling and untouched by glaciers, like in southwestern Wisconsin.  It was tranquilizing to look out over the empty fields, with tractor treads winding their way up hillsides and tree skeletons lining my periphery, silence broken only by the sound of a train passing through.  I belted out “Winter Wonderland” all the way home.

I awoke this morning to an even more dazzling sight, with the tree limbs of the woods that surround me all iced with a good inch or two of wet, sticky snow.  This is one of my favorite winter scenes of all and usually happens only once or twice in a season.  It puts me in the mood for a warm beverage and some warm tones, like those of my friend David Goodrich’s song “Snowed In”, which is a fitting piece on a day like this, for obvious reasons.  If you have a moment, I posted a version of Bob Dylan’s “I Threw It All Away” on my youtube channel yesterday.  Be sure to turn the sound on the player down a bit to avoid the digital distortion I somehow missed.  It’s pretty good, otherwise.  Well, I’m off to brew something up for myself.  All the best to anyone who might be reading this, and be careful out there, midwesterners!

SNOWED IN