Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Baby, it's cold outside.

Photo: Our house.
I lived in the South until I was 30. When I lived there, I thought icicles were those silver things people put on Christmas trees.


Anonymous said...

Nice picture. How neat that you thought icicles were the same as tinsel. It is impossible to know some things without experiencing them. Teagrapple

Cynthia said...

The picture wouldn't open for me, but I got so tickled at the icicle comment. Somewhere buried in the family albums is a picture of my sister and me holding up icicles that were longer than we were tall. I think I was about four, and that is the only real memory of icicles I have.

TiAnKa said...

Oh My Theresa, it looks so cold there! Your photograph reminds me of growing up in Denver where each year icicles formed around our house just like they do on yours.

Stay warm,


beths front porch said...

I wonder how they will sound as they fall - or melt.

ggw07 said...

Love icicles- Remember childhood in New Hampshire- Still go icicle hunting on drives here-
Keep warm-

emmapeelDallas said...

I was almost widowed when I'd been married less than 2 weeks, because A & I lived in Chicago, in a 2-story coachhouse built just after the Chicago fire, and we used to get a 2-story icicle off the roof. A went out and snapped it off, worried about our 4 year old neighbor, but the icicle broke in pieces and hit A on the head and knocked him out. He had to have stitches, too. Ah, The Icicle Saga! :)



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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