Such Snow

toomuchsnow

 

The northwestern U.S. has had some pretty copious snowfall the last couple weeks.  In fact, in my area, it’s the most there’s even been over such a period – at least since the 1800s when folks started keeping track of this kind of thing.

Although the main roads have been pretty well maintained, the residential roads got so bad that I beached my low-clearance sedan in the middle of the street five times in a two-day period, unable to free myself (one of the times I needed to get towed!), but the futile effort to do so, with all the digging and chipping and pushing, screwed my back up, which has left me mobility-challenge for the last three days.

Fortunately, someone was finally able to smooth out my street yesterday, so leaving or returning to the house is no longer quite so perilous.  At least for the moment – the snow might start up again next week.

Oh, boy…!

 

Bene vīvite.

Advertisements

When in Doubt

Facebook presented me with these two entries in direct sequence the other day.

 

libraryisclosed

 

I can’t help but feel there’s some sort of existential metaphor here.  (>^-‘)>

On a related topic, the closure of that and other local libraries is due to the greatest amount of snow this area has ever received since I’ve lived here.  My car is stuck on the street and none of the usual tricks have been successful extricating it.  It’s not very cool.

Except in the literal sense, I suppose.

 

Bene scribete.

Lemons

A pile of lemons

If life hands you lemons, say “Thanks, life!”, ’cause lemons are good!

–Emmy

 

Somewhere in a field of snow
An ermine scampered to and fro.
She was a small but steady thing,
And Emmy was her name.

With fur as white as table salt
(Her tail-tip the only fault),
She zipped unseen along the ground
Whose color was the same.

Now, Emmy served a magic cat –
But, oh, let’s not get into that.
We’re merely speaking of her quest
To find her favorite fruit.

She’d buried one just months before
Beneath the forest’s earthy floor,
Yet now the turn of weather was
Impeding her pursuit.

She dug right here and dug right there
Until at last a yellow glare
Revealed itself to her within
The endless sea of white.

A squeak of joy escaped the throat
Of Emmy the triumphant stoat;
She snatched the lemon up and couldn’t
Wait to take a bite.

She licked her lips and closed her eyes
And sank her fangs into her prize,
But when the juice beset her tongue,
The ermine was distraught.

Without another sip she frowned
And tossed the fruit back to the ground,
Then turned and sulked away and grumbled,
“Stupid bergamot…”

 
 
Floobing bergamots.
 
 
Bene scribete.