Unusually for this area we have about a foot of snow. This started falling last night, while we were out with friends for a pre-Christmas meal. We played a game of Desert Island Dinner, taking turns to name and describe favourite songs, which we could not hear – which sounds weird, but worked. The plan now is to make a compilation CD, which will be marvellously varied – a choral harmonised version of The Lord is my Shepherd segueing into Bikini Girls with Machineguns, and new-to-most-of-us things like a version of Lay Lady Lay by Melanie.
Then I got home and read that Captain Beefheart had died. Sudden clear memories of listening to Trout Mask Replica over and over; Steal Softly through Sunlight, Steal Softly through Snow…
By the morning the snow looked like this:
I walked over the hill at the back of our house, past a field of sprouts which were being planted when this same walk was part of my recovery from surgery.
This time last year, being out in cold weather was giving me mystery pains. Now, this kind of thing feels great as my bypass-infused heart does its thing. A small warm thing moving through a big cold place.
I ended up in town, which seemed curiously disappointing with its trampled paths, dripping eaves, Santa and normality.
I was glad I had gone out earlier, into the uncanniness of the new drifts.