a real winter, it is

It's snowing. It should stop at midnight, with freezing rain a few hours later. We've had to go to Saturday afternoon mass two weeks in a row - so unusual, and there are rumors of a nor'easter on Thursday. 

The grocery shopping had to be done, as much as I dreaded being there before a storm. It was busy; at one point the line extended to the other end of the store. Thankfully, by the time we were ready, it was back to normal. And I noticed it was after twelve - lunch, even before a storm, must be eaten! There is still some regularity, some predictability in this world.

When we got to church, the organist was about to go up the stairs to the choir loft, and he cheerily said, "Good afternoon", at the same time I said "Good morning". It was so automatic; if I'm seeing him, it must be morning!

Before today's snow

I saw rabbit tracks in the snow around the bird feeder; do rabbits eat sunflower seeds? I hope he found some food.

I finished reading The Bird in the Tree. It's the first in a trilogy, with the middle one being my favorite. But I had forgotten how good this was - or maybe I hadn't realized it before. I'm wanting to read the whole thing again, but it's not long ago I read the second, so I may just go right to the third, which is The Heart of the Family - I don't remember it that well, but I know I loved these three books.

"In times of storm and tempest, of indecision and desolation, a book already known and loved makes better reading than something new and untried. The meeting with remembered and well-loved passages is like the continual greeting of old friends; nothing is so warming and companionable."

                                                   -  Elizabeth Goudge, The Bird in the Tree

Meanwhile, I continue with J.D. Vance's memoir of his youth in Appalachia. He's come a long way from that very unstable childhood, to the fellow who made that terrific speech in Munich the other day.