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January 7th 2010

    I remember the 'Coffin Snow'.  

    We lived amongst that collection of attitudes I still call "horsey-culture".   Giant pets with hooves that cannot share the kitchen.  Farms owned by doctors.  "Hunting and shooting."  Gentry Balls, and other such odious practice in pursuit of  'jolly good fun'.   And perhaps in those days I wasn't that friendly.

     Over two foot of snow came.  The sky one morning was so blue I still recall the color, and I still recall the sight of what I guessed were Geese flying north in long thin trails that looked like smoke.  And I still recall the neighbor who had a funeral to provide for.

      If I had known she made coffins in the shed by her house, I think I might have at least waved at her.  But she kept her coffin making activities quiet because amongst 'horsey-culture', artisans who flaunt, are not invited to Gentry Balls.

    A cat we lived with had been rescued from proper stock.   He devolved quickly but always remained meticulous in his toilet habits.  The first path we cleared of snow for him to dig in, failed his inspection.  And there were limits to our patience.  So he became like a kangaroo in his chase for manners.  He hopped across the road to in his usual place, and completely disappeared in snowdrifts.  We thought we had lost him to the storm, and the worry of it meant we could not fully appreciate the sight of a coffin being dragged past our house.

       I don't remember which year the 'Coffin Snow' belongs to.  I don't remember how long electricity was lost.  I do remember it was March, and in March warmth returns quickly.   But here in January there is no sign of thaw, and there is probably a quarter of an inch out there, so I had best participate by sweeping the walk.     

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