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It is so beautiful out there right now. There are lights on the main road but both the long mews drive and my steep little hill are dark . . . except they aren’t. There’s moon behind the cloud and the white snow lights up amazingly. And it’s all new and fresh and . .. white. This entirely mundane little town is a fairyland, just like the stories. We might have found ourselves in Lothlorien.*
. . . Phew. And that was a brief flicker of power outage. No, no, I want my broadband.** And my electric blanket. There are towns not far from here where the electricity is lying in a snowdrift in a dead phone zone too.
One of my hellhounds’ loveliest virtues (paired as it is with its opposite virulent nuisance) is that they’re always up for an adventure. They’re sleepy this time of night, when I roust them to stagger out to cold dank Wolfgang, and especially lately when we just keep driving till Wolfgang warms up, by the time we get home they’re all warm and cozy and crashed out again and don’t want to go through the whole moving business again. . . . But when we got out there tonight and I turned toward the drive instead of the car they were awake and ready for business instantly. Hey! An adventure! Just what we wanted at 1 a.m. in a blizzard!
* * *
* Does it snow in Lothlorien? I can’t remember. And Galadriel would probably whap me up longside the head for ‘fairy’.
** And it’s just taken me two tries to get on.
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