Long Long Winter

The winter this year seems to drag along like an old blanket.  It makes me think of the Robert Bly poems about the winter and cold, one of the few poets who approaches the effect of winter on the psyche.
Our winters in South Dakota require a changed mind about how a person lives his life, still retaining a connection to the patterns and seasons of nature and the cycle of death and rebirth.  It's NOT always sunny in South Dakota.  Sometimes, it's damn cold, and the wind blows, and we huddle against it.  That takes some work, and planning.  One day, you might be planning to get outside, take your skis, get in a little exercise, and enjoy the sunlight.  After all, it's the weekend!
But that morning the wind is hurling last week's snow through the air, and an outing loses its savor.
We learn to roll with those disappointments.  We recognize that we are small, we need warmth, and we sometimes need to bow to the seasons and protect the heat our bodies make.

Another Blower

Today's another blowing day, another day with the trees waving in a gale, snow flying, students emailing me that the weather will keep them out of class.  Another day in Madison.
I spent part of the day outside examining my wood pile. Let's call it that, as I took the wheelbarrow to the back yard and filled it from my ever-diminishing pile of firewood, which I thought would last us all winter.  I'm not one skilled in estimating wood usage, but I'm spending more time in the house this winter, and it's been a cold one, so we keep stoking that stove, watching the wood flame up and out of the chimney.  We've always got one damned warm place in the house.  Some cool places too.

Blowing the Stripes Right Off the Road

Yesterday we were out west of town when I noticed that the wind had blown so hard over the past few days that even the stripes on highway 34 were peeling up and blowing away.  Now how about that?

Why Didn't They Stop for Coffee?

Part of the plan for the day includes heading to Aurora, SD, for some landscaping plants, and when I checked out the route there (52 minutes by car, over 3 hours by bicycle unless the wind is howling like it is today), I noticed that the Google folks had driven by taking photos.

By all signs, they came by last fall (after our mailbox was annihilated but before the snow flew). Thus, here we are, our house newly shingled and painted, largely obscured by trees and plants just the way we like it. But, peeking through, the peak of the grey lady, working on her second century.