Last night at choir practice we talked about the spring weather, of course we know it won't stay, but what if it did? We also worried a loud that if November was so fierce that the other bookend of winter, March, could be too. We sang our new favorite song, New Feet, an Emily Dickinson poem that director Nancy Nash has set to a cheerful tune from an old hymn.
New feet within my garden go--
New fingers stir the sod--
A troubadour upon the Elm betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green -
New weary sleep below --
And still the pensive spring returns-
And still the punctual snow!
Which of course meant that we woke up to a frosting of "punctual" snow, which I hate to admit, is really beautiful. The whole world is still, and all shades of gray, blue, black and white.
Well, sort of still. I do have a little puppy to walk.