What do you do on snow days? Seven inches of new snow fell overnight. Fresh pillows buffer the earth’s bones. In one of our conifer stands, a white-tailed doe lies along the leeward side.
I wish for a greater vocabulary for snow–like an Inuit’s. Then my poetic side could roll around in aniu or qanikcaq, 
snow-on-ground, and muruaneq, soft-deep-snow. Or I could make snow seraphs in nutaryuk, fresh-fallen-snow-on-the-ground.
This storm arrived after a thaw–so the YakTrax are back. Since the revision process of FORGED IN MIST feels stale, I’m treating myself to well-earned holiday. That means a sweet-and-sour reading combo of library books: SERAPHINA by Rachel Hartman and Al Gore’s THE FUTURE. Later I’ll strap on the Trax and it’s off to the luge course we go. Perhaps I’ll spike the hot cocoa afterward with homemade Irish cream.
Then tomorrow I face my desk with renewed enthusiasm. On, on…
Janine Donoho 