Heap big snow

"Heap big snow come," this Indian said.

The blanket slid on his shoulder and one naked brown arm came out. It moved in a wide sweep, to north, to west, to east, and gathered them all together and swirled.

"Heap big snow, big wind," he said.

"How long?" Pa asked him.

"Many moons," the Indian said. He held up four fingers, then three fingers. Seven fingers, seven months, blizzards for seven months.

They all looked at him and did not say anything.

(Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Long Winter)


Well... despite the forecast, it wasn't quite on that scale today, but the trees around our perimeter fencewere carrying an impressive amount of the white stuff this morning. By midday it had stopped falling and by 4pm the world was most definitely mushy and all of the decorative bits had fallen off the branches.

I loved the "Little house..." books as a child and still like the language today. If I'm ever having a 3 o'clock-can't-settle-brain-to-sleep moment, it's this sort of thing that I turn to. For some reason it stops the thoughts swirling and gets my brain to relax. The Jungle Book, the "Little Women" series and the Heidi books all have a similar effect. Luckily I haven't needed any of the above for a while.

Hope you're all wrapped up warm tonight.

(Oh, by the way, the blurry bits are falling snow rather than pants camerawork..!)