What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness. .
Behind me is the Connecticut River, frozen. The ice dams along the river are causing extensive flooding in our community. The trees you see are on the floodplain, under several feet of water and encased in ice. It is silent here, except for the sound of dense, wet snowflakes falling and the occasional sound of creaking, cracking, creeping ice. This is the kind of still, frozen silence that summer cannot offer us. And despite my cold toes, frozen fingers and frosty breath, I remain grateful for the stillness. The cold. The silence. ❄️