January 18, 2002

It's a Thursday afternoon and the snow is gently falling outside 
the cabin window. The forecast isn't calling for much accumulation, 
and that's okay. The past-due snows finally arrived in bulk this 
past week, so I am content. The fourteen or so inches (according 
to my snow-stick calculations), officially closed our road to the 
cabin for the season. Along with this comes a more thorough 
solitude initiated by seasonal mandate. Linda and I don't get as 
many visitors dropping by this time of year. If someone does show 
up on at our front door (via snowshoe, ski or ski-doo), we figure 
they must really want to see us! I look forward to the limited 
access and instant isolation that accompanies the road closure. 
This is the time of year when the stack of books in the corner 
get more attention and thoughts find their way to paper more 
readily. The silence rests heavy in the snow and the dogs position 
themselves in strategic indoor spots. The coffee pot sits on the 
woodstove like it's a backwoods diner, only I haven't seen the 
waitress for a couple of hours now and I'm starting to wonder if 
I should leave a tip...