It has been gray in Iowa for a long time, too long to remember the last sunny day. I could look it up but I don’t want to. The last sighting of the sun in eastern Iowa must have been at least two weeks ago. Meanwhile sleet, icy rain, snow, more sleet, streets too slick for any pedestrian ambition, auto wrecks all about, sad winter clothing on every passerby, all of it looking soiled and thick with moisture, the old snow black as a chimney sweep’s hands. In this weather we all become scarecrows staring down the ravens. Someone long ago once loved this land for its spare dignity. But in our local caution, stepping gingerly we cannot remember those days. We are in harmony with the dusk. And some of us go to the gym. Others take up drinking. We find that the palliatives are also made of the dusk. It is good to know one’s place. Tonight three geese flew by on the level darkness for they are enduring.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 
Winter is not the end of the world–even in Iowa. I for one love the winter. I like to get bundled up and brave the elements. While down hill skiing is not possible given you on the Great Plains surely cross country skiing is possible. What about ice skating at a local rink? This is not only fun but a good excuse to hold hands with that wonderful wife of yours. Come on man you are depressing me with your gloomy take on winter.
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