Snow. Martha's sense of snow. Snow that bedazzles, glitters, winks. Sometimes it's hard to believe that it's snow because it is so perfect, each flake opalescent, diamondine. It's been snowing all day and will snow all night. Rhonda, the plow truck with nine lives, is getting a nice thick white blanket, which tomorrow morning John will sweep off so he can start her up and clear the driveway.

This afternoon I started Christmas decorating and put a single white candle light in each window, including the two triangular windows in the attic. Now that it's night, from outside the house looks prettier than a painting, and I must confess that I suddenly understand the appeal of Thomas Kincaid's artwork. Moonlight and snow combine to make the outdoors glow. The electric candles reflect off snow and snow-covered trees. The scene is gold, blue, and a million shades of grey blue gold.

Today I roamed Jay running errands and socializing. The postmaster shared his lunch with me--homemade baba ganoush, flat bread and spanakopita. Paul Johnson entertained me and a half dozen other customers with stories and gossip. I bought our Christmas tree from him and intended to get a loaf of homemade bread but forgot. The Aubuchon hardware man in Au Sable Forks helped me find a timer for the Christmas tree lights. When John got home from proctoring the SATs we took a drive back to the hardware store--I needed more candle lights--and I drove us home in the snow-pouring twilight. At John's suggestion I took a back road and nearly crashed us into a stone wall because I didn't see the turn where the Jay covered bridge is. Better the stone wall than the river, which is not yet frozen solid. Me, quiet panic voice while we slide quite out of my control in the whiteness: "John? John?" ...and John, "Get off the brake! Get off the brake!" The Nissan did stop, and we shook it off and kept on going.

Just now a brightly-lit industrial-sized snow plow vehicle drove by the house spewing a plume of snow higher than itself.

Today I practiced Christmas carols on the piano. John's family will be here in less than a week and today I came to the conclusion that my dream of playing carols while everyone stands around and sings is not going to happen, at least this year. No one could be expected to try to sing along while I crash around trying to find the notes and chords. I am disappointed but have been enjoying myself anyway and won't stop playing just because I'm bad at it.

Bedtime soon. Smidgen is wandering around making her strange howling sound, dragging her coyote foot between her front legs. Bean is a sphinx on the chair next to me. He has been following me around like he's tied to my shoelaces. He wants me to change the weather back to warm so he can hunt and not be cold. Nickie is probably asleep on a radiator somewhere. John is finishing up his bathroom renovation for the night--brushstrokes of pungent shellac. Papi is curled in a donut on a pillow on the couch. I am a happy person tonight.