There is a skiff of snow on the ground this morning. It’s an expression used by my grandparents that originated long ago in Scotland. The skiff, sometimes spelled “skift,” refers to a light dusting of snow that barely covers the ground, and on this cold and windy morning, my budding peach trees are beginning to wonder if they were perhaps too eager to greet the spring. The collards, cabbage, and 7 Top, however, are quite content with the weather, and a flash-frozen jonquil is quite beautiful until it thaws out.
I’m grateful for the hum of the heating system and the warm puppy thawing my toes. A few days ago we were without power for an entire day while crews from the EMC worked diligently to repair the damage as the storm front passed through. Isn’t it remarkable how quiet it gets when the power goes out? Gone are all the clicks, buzzes and whirs that accompany us thoughout the day, just below the threshold of awareness.
Also missing is the background buzz of actors and professional talkers, and the whining cacophony of that noise behind the eyes from broken news and opinions about opinions. The silver lining behind every power outage is the opportunity for what Frank Zappa called “mental floss.” It’s a chance to clean out some of the mental and spiritual plaque that accumulates from an unhealthy diet of information loaded with emotional high-fructose corn syrup and trans fats.
We were certainly forewarned about the storm. Ten days out, the models started popping up on social media, and the now-customary frenzy of forwarding and reposting commenced. While technology has made us significantly safer because of advanced warnings and the ability to rapidly disseminate vital information, the competition for our attention through dramatic language and images can become a fear factory that creates panic for some and desensitization for others.
“Earth’s Rotation Plunges All of North America Into Darkness.” “Be sure to download the Channel 39 Weather App for the latest updates throughout the night!” Our bodies may be statistically safer now than they were in the days of weather predictions from the morning newspaper and warnings from the radio, but we pay for that safety with a tax on our peace of mind.
The good news is that mental floss is available whenever we need it, and on that note, it’s time for a brisk walk to admire the sparkling canvas painted by the first rays of sunlight peeking over the mountain.
Outside The Box 