Winter Tempest Trilogy


Morning sounds nonexistent

The world neatly colored in colorlessness

Banks of white hip deep

We dig out meters and walkways

Icicles hang from the eaves

Thick spears dangerously hovering overhead

Doormats saturated

Skin cracked



Nearly swollen in its thirst

Work slowed

Can we get out today?

Our feet live in slippers or boots

Our hands in gloves or mitts

Our hair suffers from hat head

while the men grow their faces to insulate

them from the cold

Fleece is our fashion

The season seems endless

Not fleeting nor fleeing anytime soon


(They say it’s the third storm is as many weeks though it feels like more. First the storm, then the days of cleaning up. One runs into the other making the season a long and slow moving freight train.)

The Road to Completion


The moon was lightly veiled in a frosty mist, hanging low in the western sky. I turn right on the road that serves as a low ridge for a sunrise view. The day was just barely breathing, trying to add its muted glow to this dead zero day. I am encased in Gortex, winter proofed and multilayered. Surprisingly mobile and agile despite being sealed and wrapped from head to toe. It takes mere minutes for my eyelashes and bangs to create miniscule icicles, the results of my warm breath meeting the crackling cold air. I’m reminded that my nostrils have hair, as they,too, stiffen in the chill.

Getting out the door for a walk or run in this long winter requires a different kind of dedication. Smart preparation the night before, added time in the morning to layer up and a sheer determination to just do it. Forget physical ability. If your head’s not in it, go back to bed!

I would like to think that my obsession with fresh air and morning movement helps me be less fearful, allows me to grow an extra skin layer of grit and toughness, maybe even a kind of boldness, a clarity for the day ahead.

I am immersing myself in this season mostly because I know it really is my last in this climate. I’d still be out there anyway but I feel more purposeful now. Time is roaring past me; the days seem to spin into one another. They fold and unfold in ways that put me in the dual role of observer of and participant in each moment.

Would I have this same outlook if I were not departing? I cannot answer that question fully. Would you dear readers feel the same?

Maybe we all need to be right in the midst of the microseconds of our life. Maybe we need to embrace the Grace, the Holiness and the Wholeness, the Light and the Dark, the Here and the Now.


There is no path to happiness, happiness is the path

~ Buddha


Snow Day Beginnings

Friends! I felt I must share this little gem from Jenn. We’ve had a good spate of wintry weather here leaving us more home bound than usual. This little ditty is an homage to our family. I did not realize the extent the positive impact has had on her life. We are equally blessed to have her in ours as well.

Jenn's Journal

We’re all sitting in the living room with the snow falling with abandon outside. We sip our Boneshaker coffee and our Tazo Awake tea. Perhaps these are metaphors for the kind of people we are. On the TV plays a documentary about the history of New York City and books cover the floor. Somehow I have found myself in a world of life-long learners, lovers and a world of people who find genuine joy and wonder in the world around them. I hope that someday I can follow this example.

There’s something incredible about always seeking knowledge, truth and life. To actively go and find something, rather than passively wait for that something to find you. To be with people who want to know more, educate themselves and live a life in health, grace and critical thought. It’s so interesting to me that on a day when we could be…

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