Saturday, February 02, 2008


by John Updike

The sun rides higher
Every trip.
The sidewalk shoes
Icicles drip.
A snowstorm come,
And cars are stuck,
Though road salt flies
From the old town truck.
The chickadees
Grow plump on seed
That Mother pours
Where they can feed,
And snipping, snipping
Scissors run
To cut out hearts
For everyone.

Why, what’s the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

~William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British dramatist, poet. Don Pedro, in Much Ado About Nothing

Late February days; and now, at last,
Might you have thought that Winter’s woe was past;
So fair the sky was and so soft the air.

~William Morris

And of course, from Groundhog Day (1993)

Phil: You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.

Rita: Look at all these people. They sit around telling stories. Then they sing songs all morning.
Phil: Yeah, they're hicks, Rita!


How do you keep your spirits up in the bleak midwinter?

Encourage one another,

p.s. It's snowing again.

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