Wizardry

Who expects visitors during these crazy days?

I'll tell you you who does not expect visitors during these crazy days.

I do not expect visitors during these crazy days..

And yet . .. . 

What a joy it was to have Dorothy and Dorothy's Jim-Jim stop by yesterday . . . 

Dorothy entertained us all with her Wizardry . . . 

. . . and Mistah had a fire going out there . . .

. . . I tried to stay away from the smoke because I had just shampooed. 

What? Be quiet. Shampooing is hard work.

And we were all focused on Dorothy's Wizardry anyway.

Jim-Jim stayed up above, high and dry, like any smart person 

would . . . 

. . . while I shoveled snow off the tables down low. Naturally. 

And once again, Mistah was represented solely by one, lowly, incorrectly-lighted cellphone selfie.

But we didn't care. Because yesterday was all about the Wizardry.

More More of the Same

Remember More of the Same?  

I cannot quite believe I so blithely thought talking about More of the Same would seem repetitive. I mean, we had flowers then . . . we had green!

We are completely okay and fine and healthy and relatively sane around here -- and we are so thankful for that.

But our current More of the Same? . . . 

Well . . .   

It's been a snowy winter so far . . . 

. . . the snow's been lovely, yes, but we do seem to be getting an awful lot of it . . .

. . . but still, it's been gorgeous . . . 

 

. . . even though we've not quite been able to make a fire.

But all this being inside business? 

Well, that's starting to get old. More of the Same, you might say.

But still, it does have its advantages . . . 

 

. . . and some of them are hilariously awesome.

Coraggio, peeps.

The Muffled Hush

 My great and glorious friend Hsinny posted about yesterday's storm and wondered what it is that makes a snowstorm so magical.

Maybe, she said, it's "the muffled hush" that accompanies it.

I love that.

We had a snowstorm yesterday that is the stuff that snowstorms are made of. A snowstorm that people not from New England think it's always like when we get snow. A snowstorm from an imaginary, snowstorm place in some great snowgoddess' imagination.

It was that kind of snowstorm.

Every branch was covered, the world was quiet, the trees were anthropomorphically dancing . . . 

. . . some trees more than others . . . 

. . . and although yes, it was a monochromatic day out there . . .

. . .  there's always plenty of multichrome inside.

And today?

The world is a muffled hush in the sunshine.

Snow Day

Here in the Northeast, in the US of A, we are forecast to get a boatload of snow dumped upon us over the course of the day -- 8 to 14 inches, by the sound of it.

I was hoping to wake up to a foot already on the ground, with that pervading socked-in quiet that is distinctly unique to a snowstorm.

Alas, only a couple of inches have accumulated so far, and the snow is falling in light swirly circles.

But hey. A snowstorm is a snowstorm is a Snow Day, and I'll take it.

I will read.

I will roast cauliflower.

I will make soup.

I will make baba ganoush and hummus.

I will race to the window every time the snow plow drives down the street then backs out.

Here's a Before photo of the zen rocks on the picnic table, so we can compare and contrast After. Because who doesn't love to Compare and Contrast? I do, that's who.

And here's a Before photo of the Tree and the Field because who doesn't love the Tree and the Field? I do, that's who.

Happy Snowstorm, everybody.

Happy Snow Day.