Sunday Morning

It's been a loud storm, the sound of the wind rising and falling, as if we could hear "the roar of Ocean on his wintry shore," as Whittier wrote in Snow-Bound. How much snow has fallen is impossible to tell.



It snowed all night but it's as if the wind blew most of it somewhere else. You can see from the two photos, one taken at 10:30 p.m., the other at 7:30 a.m., that there's some difference but not a lot.



The Times delivery man was actually able to make it up our hill and threw the paper with such accuracy that all I had to do is open the front door and reach outside to pick it up. The bird feeder is full and three crows are gorging themselves now, having chased away the juncos and sparrows.