Passing Fancy

Nothing could be further from the truth. I love the concept of a Cheba, a wooden cage with a cleric held over the public square. Held accountable, which, of course, is a myth. But it's easy enough to sacrifice a fat priest. Two geese go into a bar. Later, of course, no one remembers anything. The twelve step program on the ridge is you either live or die. Phone was out so I couldn't SEND, then it got very cold and I went into hibernation mode. Four inches of new snow, more in the forecast. Up to fifteen degrees today, near steady down to ten below Friday night. Blowing snow all day. A great many birds, stocking up on Sumac seeds, including two pair of Cardinals looking out of place. Even a Pileated Woodpecker joins the fray. I needed to split and stack another rick, but put it off until tomorrow, despite the fact that it's supposed to be colder, because it's likely to be at least partly sunny. All day today, when I decided to go out, it would start snowing harder, so I finally just gave it up, put on my slippers and got a toddy. My survival plan is to stay wrapped up, eat roasted vegetables, and reread Barry Lopez's great Arctic Dreams. My phone is restored and I call B at the University, and ask him to get me whiskey and tobacco and hold them at his house. Maybe I can hike down there on Friday. The radio is a flood of closings for tomorrow. Athens is closing down, and in several counties you're not supposed to drive unless your wife is having a baby. I might be able to get the Jeep down on Saturday or Sunday, if not I'll hike out and ride into town with B on Monday. Ran out of aluminum foil, so I nuke a couple of potatoes, so that I can fry slices with sausage and eggs. Just at dusk a wave of snow that obscures everything. From listening to the local news and weather, I get the idea that everyone is just writing off tomorrow. Schools, post office, State and County offices, everything closed, stay off the roads, stay home and watch a movie. Stay tuned for our list of cancellations. I've never seen the Towhees eating the Sumac until today. No one is singing. The crows check in, but I have nothing to offer, they bitch and moan. The trip to the outhouse was an adventure. I had the warm seat under my arm (which stores next to the stove) but I saw right away there was a problem. The outhouse is only three-sided and doesn't have a door, snow was drifting, and I was in the teeth of the wind. Pooping thus, I had to consider my career choices. Now it's wind, it came out of nowhere and took the stage. I sign off as quick as I can.