The act of reading ... begins on a flat surface, counter or page, and then gets stirred and chopped and blended until what we make, in the end, is a dish, or story, all our own.
— Adam Gopnik

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February 9, 2013

Warm, safe, snowed in

With no wind blowing
It sifts gently down,
Enclosing my world in
A cool white down,
A tenderness of snowing.

It falls and falls like sleep
Till wakeful eyes can close
On all the waste and loss
As peace comes in and flows,
Snow-dreaming what I keep.

Silence assumes the air
And the five senses all
Are wafted on the fall
To somewhere magical
Beyond hope and despair.

There is nothing to do
But drift now, more or less
On some great lovingness,
On something that does bless,
The silent, tender snow.

May Sarton, 'Snow Fall'

I love seeing my 19th-century neighborhood with no cars in it. :)

{Poem from The Writer's Almanac - I saved it, just in case. :) 
The painting is House in Winter, by Gustave Loiseau, found here.}


Cosy Books said...

Oh Audrey, I wish we lived closer together so we could hunker down together! My daughter's friend arrived from England on Thursday evening and woke up to a complete wonderland. His skill with a shovel was nonexistant but he did give it a good try.
Stay warm in that gorgeous flat of yours and enjoy the snowy view! Do you have lots of milk to keep you in tea all day?

Audrey said...

Wouldn't that be lovely! And yes, I do, and a stack of books. But I'm also looking forward to tramping around in it later.

Lisa said...

I was just reading the national weather report in the paper this morning and noticed it said snow for Boston, and I thought of you. We're set for chilly rain - our version of winter weather. Enjoy your cozy day in & snowy walk out!

Claire (The Captive Reader) said...

Beautiful painting. Stay warm and safe!

Bellezza said...

What a lovely post, in mood and pictures. I envy you the snow as we yet again, still, have none to speak of. I so miss it...

Thank you for visiting!

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