They say it’s -26 this morning, feels like -34…it’s so white and crystals hang in the air.  Everything out the morning window is still, only one man scraping his windshield madly before I came up the stairs to write.  It looks like most people tucked their vehicles into their garages last night.  My van shivers, piled high with crusty snow.
I shoveled the walk three times yesterday.  The snow just kept coming…several drives had to be done during the day and evening and I clenched the steering wheel as so many others, hoping to get home again safely.  It’s been a shock of winter come upon us and we won’t be seeing sunshine until Wednesday perhaps.  The cold temperatures will remain with us for the week. I am starved for colour anyway, and this makes it more difficult.
Another stack of stories read and I must admit that I got my nose into a James King biography on Margaret Laurence.  Oh my…it’s so beautiful!  I wish that I could pour over historical fiction every day.  I love books, as I do writing.
Belle 1974

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