The snow is quiet and other than the drip drip drip outside the window I am lured into thinking we've gone somewhere else. I think my favorite are the trees, how they transform into something more. The white snow contrasting with the bark. Above is pinkish grey sky.
The rarity of a snowfall in Mississippi lends itself to being quite special. No, we don't have snowplows or snow shovels or snow tires or snow anything. In fact, you may find us sledding down a hill on the hood of an old car. You'll see those people here and there, you'll hear their stories.
What I notice tonight is that it is beautifully quiet, peacefully still and I need to write. Write that story called Foreword.
Today is a holiday of beginnings.