Wednesday, February 26, 2025, 32.5*
A special weather statement this morning— Black ice possible until 8. Cautiously, before my three are allowed through the door, I step onto the deck, jar of green crystals in hand. The air is almost sweet, not filled with winter, not filled with wood smoke, not making me cough. Though I did not see it, though it has stopped, rain has raised the perfume of mingled leaves and earth.
Accuweather predicts, Snow ending in 46 minutes. Beyond the fenced yard, I see perhaps half of the stump that marks the steep uneasy descent toward the pond. I wonder how high the waters will come towards the house as the snow-- from the top of the winding driveway pushed downhill creating a fortress wall, a barrier plowed into place -- how high will the water rise when it all melts? There must be a formula—snow to water, a holy ratio hidden in numbers and patterns. As much as I love words, I love numbers, love puzzles.
There’s no ice of any color on the deck. The dogs, restless, come in, then beg to go out. Another day graciously given.
"Every day I will bless You,
And I will praise Your name forever and ever."
Psalm 145:2 NASB
Photo: LJ Austin
