It may not
be this cold in Nicaragua
This week
has separated out the thin-blooded immigrants from the Belgians (and
thick-blooded immigrants; the Polish laugh at this temperature as they sit
outside for a cigarette). A Canadian informed me that it was -45 C there and I wonder why (and
how) anyone could live below freezing, but a second ago it all became clear.
As I
finished today’s peanut butter & jelly sandwich…it started snowing.
There was
already a bit on the ground since Monday, but it fell when we weren’t looking. Now
I’m looking. And looking.
Now I’m
loving.
Belgians
always look at me like I’m crazy when I say I love the rain, and indeed it is a
special goddess, but this…this is a whole different kind of beauty. I’m not
going to try and think of something new to say about it, it’s all been said (better)
before (especially about the almost tangible quietness of it all!) so instead I am brewing a hot cup of tea, in
the big mug, and grabbing this excellent book, and I have a date with the couch
and a blanket.
It's beyond me right now to make it look good, but here's what's on the other side of the window, getting heavier by the second.
Stay warm and
quiet my friends!
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