The dusty light, the final hour

[sovay]

My ability to get any sleep has deranged like a spiderweb on LSD, but just a moment ago in the street it was thinly but distinctly snowing. I turned on WHRB and got Michael Tippett's A Child of Our Time (1944). I still can't believe Opera Boston folded right before they would have staged the Mozart-out-of-Eliot Hermetic crack of The Midsummer Marriage (1955). I can't believe in impending Thanksgiving.

Comments

[spatch]

We had tiny flurries in Davis you could see if you looked out the window hard enough, and at one point little ice pellets sticking to the ground before melting entirely. Several theater staff went outside, arms outstretched, and celebrated the snow. One of them is from California so we could understand and appreciate the overjoyed response.

[sovay]

Several theater staff went outside, arms outstretched, and celebrated the snow. One of them is from California so we could understand and appreciate the overjoyed response.

I'm so glad. I've started to feel like that about snow. It's New England! We're not supposed to have green winters!