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| THE ICE PACK HAS BEEN BLOWN UP AGAINST THE SHORES OF MADELINE ISLAND... |
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| AND THE WHITE CAPPED WAVES ARE VISIBLE FROM THE PORCH |
Wednesday, 7:45 AM. 15 degrees F at the ferry dock, 14 on the back porch. The wind has shifted from southerly to westerly, still very strong. The sky is overcast, with some needle-like blowing snow. The humidity has dropped to 62% and the barometer is rising steeply, now at 29.66". The week ahead will be cold, with temperatures as low as 0 and highs in the teens and twenties. The winds will be westerly, the skies mostly cloudy or overcast, with no significant precipitation.
The winds were gale force all yesterday and last night. The rabbits have kept to their rabbit holes, and the squirrels mostly to their tree trunk penthouses. The birds have been blown on and off the feeders.
Buddy and I have been working in the library, sorting through books, and staying out of the frigid bluster.
To the Thawing Wind
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the jester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
Bring the singer, bring the jester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
OFF THE CUFF
A Day Without Political Correctness
In a brief spate of self importance, I considered "A Day Without The Almanac," in response to the "Day Without Women" that is being presently conducted, but upon more serious consideration came to the conclusion that nobody might give a tInker's damn, to my extreme embarrassment.
I am afraid we all believe ourselves to be far more important to others than we really are, and the older I get and the more people that disappear from the scene, the more convinced I am of it. Protest, march, strike, whatever, life goes on, sometimes better without us.
So what I propose is, "A Day Without Political Correctness," and see how that impacts our collective lives.
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