Round and round, like a dance of snow

In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone on the poet’s pages.

~ Robert Browning, "Women and Roses"

Many thanks to bartleby.com for providing a link to Bartlett's Famous Quotations!, without which I would not have known that Browning poem.

Shovelled today - snow and snow and snow. Snow that sticks to shovels. Snow that covers ice beneath the snow. Snow that will not lift from the pavement. Snow that gets in socks. Snow that sprays back into one's face from where one threw it. Snow that stings one's cheeks. Snow that numbs one's ears. Snow that drifts in odd, solid-seeming, sweeping sculptures. Pristine snow; slushed snow; snow that drags on tire wheels. Snow that defies salting. Snow that bars the way to Mass. Snow that keeps one all inside and think of chocolate in the pot. Advent snow that hastens fathers to frying pans where pancakes in fantastical shapes are made. Homely snow that brings mothers downstairs with cups of tea and books on Chesterton, to sit in silence with daughters who grade avalanches of papers (alas that the papers are less unique than snowflakes!). Snow that might make school an impossibility, and rehearsal, too - interfering snow. Snow that comes to prove that at least one season in New England knows what month it is! Snow that excites with the thought of delayed openings, late mornings slept in, exercise begotten of necessity. Snow that muffles the last hope of fading autumn, that strains the muscles on the ill-created shovel, that throws into disarray the best laid plans of mice and men. Snow that turns us to lighting candles. Snow that melts off shoes and into carpets. Snow that demands grilled cheese sandwiches and tomatoe soup. Snow that is lovely to look upon. Snow in crisp, cool air that warms he who does not fear it. Snow that promises Russian melodies. Snow that conjures up dreams of books read in armchairs. Anastasia snow; Elspeth snow; Schindler snow. Pillow my dreams, clothe me in whiteness, chill my heart beneath the snow until spring comes again.

Mood: Nicht so bose, danke
Music: Music by Which One Mellows I - lots of Russian-type stuff, actually
Thought: Not particularly sure whether I'd prefer it to continue snowing or not.