Sunday, February 18, 2018

Winter collapsed on us that year. It knelt, exhausted, and stayed.

 Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves

A crazy amount if snow falls, and keeps falling, and the wind whips it into white whirls. It’s a February blizzard. All day.

Unless the snow plough comes early, we may not be able to get out to go to church this morning. I must have had that on my mind as I slept because I woke from a dream in which we were scrambling to find ushers but they were all snowed in too.

Hoping, as I write this around 4ish on Sunday morning, that it wasn’t a prophetic dream.

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I’m a writer, reader, photographer, and gardener. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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