looking back an hour it was barely snowing. now is a howling white out. at misters house the personal organizer said, oh this is not bad. it is bad i said, i'm in it while you are inside organizing. and we have five months more to go. b. said what month is that? march i said. well it's not over yet then. ok six months.
on the day of the first snow is a blizzard. my gloves leak, my camera dies. this winter i promise myself i will not despair. i will renew my promise every day, for 180 days. i'm exhausted already, and sad i can't even show you a picture now, but i'm not despairing. as they invariably say, it could be worse, and it shall, and then again next week it could be 70 degrees.