“The Snow-Storm” comes to mind today. There’s a certain end-times (should we say a 19th century apocalypticism?) quality to Ralph Waldo Emerson’s poem that life and death are confronted, forward motion is reduced-if-not-halted the boundaries are indistinct. Looking out my window I see the barrenness of the landscape with only the evergreens providing color save for the woodpecker, the bluejay and the cardinals collecting their food at the feeder. The property lines aren’t present and movement is difficult either by foot, car, or train, and forget the airplane. The vivid white of the snow and ice is blinding.
So, I think it’s time for a change in weather. Don’t you?
