It's Monday, it's January, and it's snowing in Minnesota. (Sigh) I do like snow. I love its silence. When I walk the dogs at night and the world is muted by layers of icy white flakes, I feel a solitude that is almost comforting, despite the cold.
I always love the moon, but especially in winter. When a full moon tries to shine through snowfall I think of chalk smudged on a blackboard. (Sigh) I miss chalk and blackboards, which have become extinct since I began my teaching career. Whiteboards and markers do not have the same aesthetic quality, and since I am a walking mess my hands end up full of red, green, and blue stains by the end of class.
I have to drive to Wausau tomorrow to give a presentation on the limits of liberty in American history. I enjoy solitary drives, but it is supposed be -30 windchill. (Sigh) The car will be full of blankets as it is during all my long highway treks in the snowbound months.
I used to love snowshoeing in the woods on crisp, clear, winter days. I could find all sorts of wildlife tracks, and endlessly detour trying to figure out what the animals were up to, and where were they going. Ravens look very stark in winter.
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