This guy was resting in the snow around the corner from our house today. It was a bright blue, sunny day and much of the snow had melted, especially from the roads and walkways. Compared to our neighbors Up North (that’s what we Richmonders call Washington DC), we have been very lucky.
Being snowbound gives you a chance to get caught up on a lot of things that you all of a sudden don’t want to get caught up on, now that you have a chance. Around here, we’ve kept up with things that require electrical power, just in case, but otherwise we’ve spent a lot of time reading and napping. Very much the way things are when it isn’t snowing, now that I think about it.
The Barnes & Noble parking lot was jammed. I didn’t go there, but I got a good look at the cars and people as I swung by to get to Target. All the cars were filthy-looking with road salt and all the people had desperate “My God, I’ve read everything in the house already; let me in the store!” looks on their faces. We’re okay here for at least two more snowstorms. We keep a huge stash of emergency books on hand and feel nervous and twitchy if the reserve stack gets too low. Sheila even read, I swear it, The Three Musketeers this week. She had bought a used copy of it last summer in Cincinnati at Half-Price Books. It only has half the cover, but what’s inside has been pronounced a good read for well over 150 years.
As for me, I’ve been re-reading all week: Billy Collins’ poetry, Philip Gulley’s Porch Talk, Barbara Brown Taylor’s An Altar in the World, and Rabbi Irwin Kula’s Yearnings: Embracing the Sacred Messiness of Life. The poems and all of the books share at least one theme: taking the time to listen to each other and to God. Taking time to be silent. Snow makes the world a lot quieter. It’s like reverence falling from the sky.