Monday morning add-on

It's 34 degrees at 10:00 and still raining. The breeze is picking up and icy twigs are hitting windows. I've been out and around the community, driving - and walking upright! - without any difficulty. Here in "the hollow," as well as in Sangerfield at Nice 'n Easy (French-Vanilla Cappuccino's a requirment for such mornings!) there is no ice on the pavement. I drove eastward on Upper White Street as far as Sheepskin Hollow, and the road was very slushy out there.

Along Bogan Road S., hedgerows were white with ice.

I was tempted to drive up to the old "Tyler Barn" to look
at the view, but just didn't quite dare.

In Sangerfield, Mrs. Tonetti's birch trees are bent and, in the process of leaning groundward, have torn a wire.
At the Sweeneys' on White Street, their birch is similarly ice-laden.

My grandfather loved to recite the first few lines of Robert Frost's poem, "Birches."

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the line of straighter, darker trees
I like to think that some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice storms do that."

Weather forecasters are uncertain what will come next but, unfortunately, bright sunshine on all of the ice isn't even a possibility, I'm afraid!