The seasons are changing; and it’s been my experience that the severity of the upcoming winter can be judged by the observations and activities that precede it. This year? The acorns are bigger, the caterpillars are fuzzier, and I’ve collected enough garage-sale books to look smart for absolutely years.
I find great satisfaction in knowing these books are here. My idea of winter-heaven is for it to be far too cold to go out, for any reason, and me having had the presence of mind to have a week’s worth of food in the pantry and a stack of books next to a comfortable couch.
According to the stacks of books in my living room, TV room, and bedroom, I am predicting temperatures colder than usual.
But not much snow. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just know.
So what’s in the stack? Everything from Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning” to “Heart of a Dog” to “When You Find Yourself Engulfed in Flames” to a collection of stories from O. Henry.
We Minnesotans like to think deep thoughts during the winter. It’s practically a requirement.
I feel a wool sweater coming on.
Season of the Buffalo
2 hours ago