A cold, wind-blown driving snow, with no sign of deminishing any time soon.
The closest I came to any outside Christmas decorating, was hanging the wreaths on the windows, hindered by my scarf and gloves, it was the best I could do.
Nightfall will soon descend, don't forget our little feathered friends, and offer them an extra scoop of seed ~
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
The Snow Storm ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
