Deep Winter

It is deep winter in the House on the Corner.

Last Saturday we woke up to find the corner blanketed in wet, heavy snow. I peeked out the window as soon as I opened my eyes, then pulled the covers over my ears and went back to sleep. My friend J, though, woke up, grabbed her camera, and plunged into the snowfall. Later the day she sent me the picture above, a shot of the House on the Corner taken from across the street.

It is pure magic.

I love the way she framed our cast iron birdbath in the exact center of the stone gate that marks the entry to the college across the street. I marvel at the glow of the streetlamp in the snow, its harsh yellow glare softened to pink. I smile at the sculptures formed by wet flakes on bushes that will bloom in a few months.

And I am delighted by the image, even though I am in the throes of deep winter, the post-Christmas dark that feels just a degree or two off plumb. I knew that within hours our predictably unpredictable Kansas weather would melt that snow and my snow day excuses for sloth.

Everything that was postpone-able during the holidays is now coming due: The closet that desperately needs cleaning. The resolution to return to healthy eating. The start of the spring fundraising project. The writing project I promised myself I'd begin "as soon as I have time."

Of course, all of these are good and virtuous and I will be so delighted with myself when I have jumped into them. Until I take that jump I will feel guilty that I'm dithering here on the diving board.

Nevertheless, more snow is predicted for this weekend so I think I will live one more day in J's snow-covered House on the Corner. It's a place where I can pull the covers over my ears and sleep a few more minutes, then finish the socks I'm knitting and watch an episode of The Good Place.

Next week the the days will be just a little longer and I will dive in, but right now it's the deep of the winter and this is where I burrow.