Visit of the encore flakes

Outside my window encore flakes float downward, big ones, looking like so many Post-it notes, thick and steady. They will provide a fresh layer, blanketing the deeper snow that fell two nights ago, forcing normal activities to a crawl or a full stop. No church, no school, sporadic power outages. Super markets filled with anxious bread and milk buyers.

Our town saw eight to 10 inches, the television voices tell us. That was then. This is now, the encore. This performance will be milder, over quicker, delivering less snow, they tell us. We shall see.

Acoustics change. Outside, all is quiet. Snow insulates our dwelling, muffling the sounds of dwindling traffic. Birds are silent, too.

Reflected light brightens our rooms, even when the sun is not shining, bouncing off all the white outside.

Snow storms tug control from our grasp, firmly insisting that we shift our priorities of time, place and self-importance. Things That Must Be Done must be canceled or postponed. Now time is on our side, providing opportunity to complete tasks, to write, wrap, clean, read, do laundry, take a nap. We have no choice. Can’t get out of the driveway. Not yet, anyway.

We who are retired can relax, if our pantry and fridge are well-stocked and the power stays on.

I think I’ll take a nap.

 

 

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