snows

Looking out my office window, I see the snow falling, slowly, thickly, covering the gray barn and the split rail fencing. The vast trees are now sculptures, barren of the adornment of leaves and green.

In the middle of the field, two large black horses and a herd of sheep are gathered, eating their supper. The horses have white peppered backs, the sheep become gray in the white. The snow falls and I find myself watching it, as if this scene was in another time, away from this one. There is total silence.

On my desk is the Ipod I got for my birthday. When I went to Dallas for Thanksgiving, I took it along on the plane ride. Somehow the thing got frozen, and I sat in the gate area frustrated that 20th century analog person that I am, I could find no power switch, no way to manually disconnect the power. The Ipod stayed on for much of the day before the battery ran out. How sleek and simple it looked in my hand, so counter-intuitive to how I think about using technology.

Today I've re-charged it. Partner loaded it with music from our CDs, using his Mac. I am a PC user, so now if I want to add music, the Ipod must become a PC-based thing, and I will loose the items already downloaded on it.

My old cell phone is charging on the window sill. It is old technology, too, but I haven't had a need to replace it with something faster or sleeker.

The snow keeps falling, and I think about getting home.