~By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field 

I do love winter,  but,  I must admit that this week,  I’m ready for it to be over.  I need light and warmth!   This whole week will be around -30C so  I’m not moving from my spot on the couch,  in front of the fireplace!  Pyjamas and blankets are my best friends ( I once told you about it, you remember?).  But I did go out for a brief walk in the blizzard to capture some winter photos.  It’s so pretty, but so darn cold!  

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