It is quiet, peaceful, and I must admit a bit lonely here in my old purple house. Aaron and the boys were here over night and in the early morning, but as they left the quietness began to settle into the bones of the old house.
My neighbor, Larry, has been over to do the driveway several times during the day, but I think he has parked his snow blower for the evening.
As darkness begins to settle, I can only think of lines from King Lear, Act 3, Scene 2.
"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulfurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' th' world,
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!"
Here are a few photos from a late afternoon stroll around my house.
|My lovely purple house,|
|On the street where I live.|
|My side yard.|