This morning the snow was falling pell-mell all about us,
here in New England, where the temperature was cozy warm and you had to wonder
how on earth the precipitation was transformed into those incredible unique
flakes anyway, as we all wondered if there was shoveling to do or the old
melt-and-freeze disaster upon us later that day, or snowblowing or whatever. So I took a pass by Kestrel Lane on the way from dropping the beloved off and bringing the boyo on his race race run run stroll down the farmer's roads, and there it was, yet again, a cathedral as amazing as any, hidden between two fields, replete with Hawk and Kestrel, Owl and Eagle, as two Mallards peacefully made their way through the winter-cleaned pond, and we sailed by in our car, windows open, fur flying, on yet another day just handed to us all.
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