"Now great winds roar down the canyons of the sky. Branches crash, brooks race, snow scuds along greystone walls. ...despite the scientists I find nobody knows whence it comes or whither it goes. The dark of north woods is in it, the white breath of polar ice - how it blows away the settled feelings of snug hearth and flickering candlelight!"
- Gladys Taber
And this morning, the coldest of them all, arriving at church to find the heat wasn't on! Not working! I was dressed warmly with down coat, tall boots and warm gloves which stayed on my hands as much as possible during Mass, but I had to sit in our warm sunny living room a long time afterward to get warmed up. I read a lot of this and that, under a blanket.
Which brings me to another story from Gladys:
"This weekend Connie came home and on Sunday morning went to church with me. In the middle of the sermon, a terrible crash sounded, a crackling, bashing sound... The minister was talking about Paul, and he only paused a minute and went on about Paul and the shipwreck. Paul said the ship would not be wrecked, in Acts something or other. I admired Paul's courage. Another crack came.
Then the sweet-faced organist stepped over and murmured something to the minister and moved to the back of the church. It turned out the organ pipes had sort of blown up as it was a very cold day. It sometimes happens, announced the minister."
I thank God for the people who make down coats, cashmere gloves, wool sweaters and 180s (ear protectors).