The sky is so gray.
It might be early afternoon,
but the clouds make it feel like night could fall any minute.
Daytime only last a couple of hours.
The trees are completely bare.
Everything looks so devoid of life.
The wind is picking up.
I peek out the kitchen window.
The air feels warm and inviting.
The outside calls to me.
I wrap up in my favorite shawl.
I pour us a couple fingers of Bulleit Bourbon.
I turn the pups loose.
They dart out, barking, running wild.
We step out onto the deck.
The warm air has me reminiscing about spring.
We talk of spring and longer, warmer days.
The Appalachian woods sound alive with early spring.
No matter how long I’m gone from here,
when I return, I know snow will always come after days like this.
We know it will quiet down in a few hours.
Winter will return.
The wind will turn cold,
and everything will freeze over.
The water in the field will freeze and pop.
We finish our bourbon and head inside.
I turn the fireplace on full blast,
and the house gets to warm.
I love it, he will complain half serious, half amused.
He turns on the weather band radio.
It says to brace for the storm of the year.
The wind continues to pick up, turning colder.
The trees sway back and forth, unhappy with the change.
Clouds mover faster, pushing the storm in.
Night slips in quickly.
The snow starts to fall.
The deck covers quickly.
The wind howls.
The lights flicker.
The generator is prepped and ready.
The pups scurry around.
The fireplaces burn on.
The snow plies up.
God, I hate snow!
But there is no place like home in Appalachia!
