I've been
looking
over January's
"E-zine"
on this starless night, when the mercury reads minus thirty on
a snow-capped thermometer, through a thin, brittle sheet of frost-bitten
glass.
Inside, the heat from the gas stove radiates around an unplugged
Christmas tree, still be-decked with ribbons and bows, as if to
defy having suffered any recent neglect. Scenes of Australia claim
the TV screen. People sweating despite turned up shirt sleeves,
survive heat waves over asphalt, in front of a backdrop of wallaby
road signs and sun-baked countryside.
Sam, our fourteen year old dog, a breed to himself, resembles
a small fine-boned Golden Lab. He walks the floor. He senses the
sub-zero night even if we've almost managed to convince ourselves
otherwise. Sam's counterpart, Shadow, alias "Fluffy"
the miniature poodle, plants her head into the afghan that drapes
off the end of the recliner while the rest of her four-legged
mop flops from side to side in an attempt to burrow herself in
deeper, and I sit here writing.
I could carve, but that would mean having to brave minus
thirty to get to the shop when this pen and paper is so immediately
handy - and what I want to express can be recognized this way
also........ afterglow.
To those who have contributed to the "Woodcarver's E-zine", the one I've just read tonight along with all the others, THANK YOU for some warmth.
John Ireland
