louise on the left (coast)

There is snow. Lots of it. As far as the eye can see and still more landing every second. White snow falling thick and silently on the world from every window. So clean and soft and quiet. It's a few days before Christmas. We don't have a tree up, yet. And Santa has yet to drive into NorthPollaboro to stock up on goodies, yet. My parents who we came out to see barely see us in the moments the weather will allow before pulling shut the curtains on sane travel. We stay in a snug, modern, one bedroom wood cabin which now has heat and water and lots of tall windows which look out over the meadows and trees. It is a very lovely, and remote place to be snowbound in. There's not a working television or a cell phone that has service, but a modem, so this is the way I maintain my technological fix with the universe. The quiet is meditative. I sift through my memories of Christmas past and present to reexamine what lasts and what is inconsequential. Like seashells I hold the re

I realize up till recently I've been recounting a strange tale from La La Land, but I need to interrupt that story to announce that my story has been upstaged by a trip to visit my parents for the holidays. They live in Vermont. Right now we are visiting them for Christmas. My kids and I flew the day of the historic ice storm from Southern CA to the other side of the country. We are in the very cold and snowy wilds of New England in the Brattleboro, Vt. area. Newfane, Vermont, to be exact. My husband joined us 5 days later. It's certainly been an adventure. I put all those seasons of watching Survivor to good use when we tried to stay in a cabin without power one night. My parents have lived in the small, very humble town of Guilford, Vt. since 1968 and once or twice a year we are lucky enough to make a pilgrimage "home" to see them. This year's pilgrimage was in time for the end of "the ice storm of 2008." Which having just been through the