Paradise Lost, and Paradise Regained

The snow keeps falling outside.  High piles of the white stuff are surrounding me.   They seem so much more voluminous than they really are due to their airy consistency.  It would seem that multiple feet of snow have accumulated. I think if it was all packed down though, it'd only be an inch tall!   

I'm beginning to feel like I'm inside an ant farm... only instead of sand or dirt, my home is made of SNOW...

I have to stay on my toes, remain alert to the ever persistent edging in of the snow.   It's become almost a battle!   Okay, too dramatic.   Plus, I pretty much LOVE snow.   So, maybe it's more of a playful wrestle than all out war?   Much like sand or dirt... this snow wants IN...

Ye shall not pass the threshold!   


Oh, but it manages to sneak in to be sure.   It hitches a ride in the tread of my shoes much like rats aboard cargo ships.   It comes in the form of some ancient hieroglyph for me to decipher...

I think it comes in peace.   Just saying hello to the new neighbor.   As much of it that has trailed in behind, ahead of, and on me, none remains.   It disappears back into the farm, leaving me yet more mounds to tunnel through.

Despite the Oregon plates, Darla the Moose Mobile is looking more Alaskan every day!   She complains a little when I start her up, but over all I think she's enjoying the crunch of snow under her tires and the crisp winter air flowing over her carapace.  


I thought that not having a working defroster would be a real problem here.  However, my experience so far leaves me thinking it was worse in Portland.   Since the cold is so DRY here, there isn't any condensation to build up on the glass.   I can just brush the snow off the windshield and drive.  In Portland I would get icy buildup on the INSIDE of my windshield due to all the moisture in the air.   Most of my drive would be spent with the steering wheel in one hand, and the other hand furiously wiping off the glass so I could kind of see through the wet streaks.   I like driving in Alaska winter better than Portland!   Who knew?


Oh yes, yes... my puzzle... acabado!

AND... glowing like Aurora herself...

Ernesto Heinlein!   Can you spot him?

Well (as Milton would think of me) this "vulgar reader" is getting back to her reading!  


Rimes may be the invention of a barbarous age,
not needed by the smart to set the poetic stage,
how'ver,
Wretched matter and lame meeter be damned,
a poem without rimes is so very bland!
      
I'm with the Stooges...