Pennsylvania has been smacked over and over again with winter storms, an almost abusive relationship. Neighbors help each other shovel, I boil water and sample nearly every kind of tea in kitchen cabinet that needs another coat of paint. One day the snow came down continuously, the world stopped and still, the view from the living room windows the same at 10am and 3pm and 5pm, the natural light glowing from within and constant. There are books and journals scattered everywhere.
“Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath