As I sit here, the sound of sleet and ice beating against the windows brings a chill to my body although I'm not cold. It's a mental chill rather than a physical one. As I look out the east facing window behind my desk, the gunmetal gray sky and the treetops of century old hardwoods being tossed about in the wind all add to the cold. The boughs of the hemlocks are brittle with the ice that encapsules the needles turning them into oblong blocks of frozen green. The pup hasn't budged from the pile of blankets on my bed in which he is nested. Its as though he knows it will be a day to stay cozy and snug inside. Eventually, he'll have to venture outside but for now, he's warm and happy. Today's storm is in total contrast to the snow earlier this week when silence engulfed the world as large flakes quickly laid a blanket of white over everything. Such beauty is hard to describe within the limits of language. It has to be experienced by the heart to be truly appreciate. I love weekend winter storms. There is a peacefulness that comes from watching nature paint her picture.
