I love the moment when the storm breaks, and the sky opens on the gleaming white snow, and the roads are quiet still, before the plows have really come, and the world just seems to glow. That is the good thing about storms, I think. Whey they end, the world takes a breath and seems reborn. Tomorrow, I hope for a restful day, with meditation, walks, reading, talking with Maria. Walks with the dogs, visits with the donkeys.  Taking photos. Each day like that is precious, savored, sacred. Next week, I resume work on the Frieda book. Lots to do.