the sky is falling...

The snow is gently falling outside my office window. There something so relaxing about watching snow fall and alight tenderly on shrubs, overhangs and windshields. I remember waking up and seeing piles of snow drifting in my driveway and begging my dad to cancal school (he was the principal). He would check around and see what the local schools were doing and eventually I'd hear him call into the radio station and say "uncle". The funny thing about that is that I would be so tired up to that moment, but instantly awake once I knew that I didn't "have" to wake up. I would put on my winter garb and trudge through the drifts as the first human to tamper with the virgin snowfall.

Branches would be bending under the weight of the crystalized water. The woods were pure and white...kinda like I imagined heaven to be minus the numbing temperature. I would stay out until I couldn't feel my toes. Then I would come inside, take off the layers of garment draped over me, and plop down in front of the woodstove basking in the pure heat of burning lumber. I don't care what anyone else says, woodburning heat is by far the most penetrating pleasure after coming in from the bitter cold. My toes would swell under the pressure of thawing so quickly...sometimes the pain would be so excruciating, I felt like I wanted to slice them with a jack-knife to relieve the expanding pressure. But eventually, like a brain freeze after too big of a bite of ice cream, it finds relief and tingles with a sensation that lets you know that you're alive...truly alive.

Hot chocolate only doubled the pleasure as the warm, brown liquid made its way into my bossom and eventually into my veins. Water was pooled on the linoleum floor making mom a little perturbed, but it was all part of the rigors of surviving the winter season. I would stoke the fire leaving the door open to just gaze at the blaze with a woolgathering stare of wonder. Something about fire and ice just balances out the human spirit and revives the dead places inside with feeling again. The extreme fringes are where reason and meaning dwell. I loved those places growing up.

So as I look out my window at the falling sky, I'm transported back to 319 Tug Hill Rd. where life was arresting my affection and I didn't even know it. I wish I could go back...oh wait, I guess that's what I'm doing right now.