All beautiful the march of days, as seasons come and go;
The Hand that shaped the rose hath wrought the crystal of the snow;
Hath sent the hoary frost of Heav’n, the flowing waters sealed,
And laid a silent loveliness on hill and wood and field.
We had ice last night, all night. I assumed there would be no school, but quickly realized I had no way to be sure. What had happened to our battery-operated radio? Pure Luck, ever heroic, retrieved it from the trunk of his car (why was it there?), and went out for batteries at 7 a.m.
When Light Princess came down to a dark, cold house — the power went off about 3:15 a.m. — she looked out and the first thing she said was, "The poor trees."
She doesn't remember the Ice Storm of 2008, almost 11 years ago, when she was two-and-a-half. We were lucky then, too. I remember going out to Denny's for brunch with a neighbor and our collective five children, ages 2-11. When we got home the power had been restored, and that happened for us today, too. Today, we took a field trip to Becky's Diner followed by a side errand to Starbucks, a look at more trees, and we came home to an apparently recently restarted furnace.
O’er white expanses sparkling pure the radiant morns unfold;
The solemn splendors of the night burn brighter than the cold;
Life mounts in every throbbing vein, love deepens round the hearth,
And clearer sounds the angel hymn, “Good will to men on earth.”
Eleven years ago, friends brought their food to store in our fridge and
we had a big meal together. At First Parish, the church became a
shelter, complete with cots supplied by LL Bean. Although I hope this
won't be so extreme, I know that's an intensely good memory at church,
that time when everyone worked together to keep people warm and fed,
whether church people our not.
O Thou from Whose unfathomed law the year in beauty flows,
Thyself the vision passing by in crystal and in rose,
Day unto day doth utter speech, and night to night proclaim,
In ever changing words of light, the wonder of Thy Name.
The big maple in front of our house lost several big branches. I heard
them fall, hard. We saw them in the dim light of a stormy dawn, lying
beside Pure Luck's car. Did they miss? Or did they slide right off its
ice-covered shell? Later he stood in the driveway and witnessed the
fall of another huge branch. This one took out his passenger side
mirror and smashed the windshield. Now State Farm is part of our day, doing their best to bring us the peace of a $100 deductible and 80% coverage of a rental car, if Pure Luck can bring himself to pay the other 20%.
We're tucked away, hoping the power will be restored at the High School Across the Bridge, where Light Princess and her cohorts in Musica de Filia have a concert scheduled for tonight. We know it may not be that way, we live in a place where winter interferes with Christmas, beautiful or not.
For now, it's a quiet day, complete with the odd silently loveliness of broken branches. We wait to hear about the evening; we think we'll bake cookies; but first, we need to watch "The Grinch."
Hope you're keeping warm today, whatever your weather. Thirteen days until Christmas.
("All Beautiful the March of Days," words by Frances Wile, sung to Forest Green, one of my personal favorites)