As many of you no doubt know, a large pre-winter storm has been working its way East. The weather predictions here in Chapel Hill call for perhaps as much as an inch of snow. Judging from what happened last year when we had a touch of snow one day, the entire Triangle area will close down for a week, all services will cease, people will stop driving, and emergency relief workers will set out on snowshoes with backpacks of candles and cans of food to rescue stranded travelers. Meanwhile, we relocated Northerners will snicker and smirk and cover our mouths to conceal our laughter at these wimpy Southerners. This, of course, is the way Minnesotans would respond to denizens of the Bay State when we would freak out over a mere foot or two of snow. I guess there are Inuits who have a good laugh at Minnsotans.
These days, when my emotions are in turmoil over the train wreck of health care reform and the parlous condition of my cat, Murray, it is oddly soothing to have some weather to grouse about.
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The wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.
“The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,”
The joyless winter day
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!
Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Here firm I rest; they must be best,
Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want—O do Thou grant
This one request of mine!—
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign
Bobby Burns?
Correct
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