“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass
Mid-Michigan received a wallop of ice before Christmas that rendered most of my hometown without power for the holiday. I am not sure how everyone managed to stay warm and make the holiday bright for their families. I always imagine myself living in past times but I know how completely unable I am to deal with any loss of my mod cons, so perhaps the London Blitz and I wouldn’t have been the best fit.
I drove up there on Christmas Eve day. I don’t get back there very often; our family has mainly decamped and scattered. The soundtrack once you get through Perry, up on M-52, is mostly country western or Christian stations or, as I found, classic rock, and so, to a soundtrack that was right out of my formative years, I wended my way north of the fields. I found it quiet and still and frozen, no sound except the creaking of ice in the wind-stirred trees, and legions of power trucks from all over the Midwest coming to the rescue. The sun was blinding and I wanted to stop every five minutes to photograph the cornfields and the hedgerows and the barns, the beautiful old barns and tumbled stone walls, all coated in silver.
It was undeniably beautiful to look at.