Oh, another storm. This one comes at us like a Nor’easter, and there’s a little bit of thrill that comes over me at the thought of a Nor’easter, since I am from the Midwest where we hid from tornadoes and storms were just storms. Now I live in a place with Nor’easters, which makes me feel hardy, and reminds me of Burt Dow, Deep Water Man, who is tough as nails and puts a band-aid on a whale. Yellow slickers and ruddy sailors, tough New Englanders, who are equal to any weather. Nor’easters are serious weather, but for inlanders, they mean the wind/rain/snow comes from the east, instead of the usual west, and that all the resulting drifts will be in a different place, and I have to batten down the east-facing henhouse with extra straw. I have big plans to bake cookies and finish all the laundry in case the power goes out, and then hibernate beside the fire with the ultimate plain knitting. Hand piece some quilt squares. I may take a nap. Find something on Netflix that takes place in the Caribbean.