The whole family came along for a hike through the newly fallen snow today.

Yesterday I waxed poetic about walking in the snow but today it is 8° and I’m not doing that to myself.

I don’t often take walks in the morning but, when I do, it’s because of snow. Today was a real treat as I lucked into making the first tracks in last night’s snowfall ahead of the plow man.

I wish I had enough of a writers brain to properly express the profound feelings that cross me when I stand alone in the muffled quiet of a thick snowfall. We were formed to appreciate such things and it feels right when I connect with a wonder of life such as this.

There is some kind of horrible irony in receiving biodegradable trash bags in an unbiodegradable plastic bag. 🤦🏼‍♂️

Browsing one day in a library, I opened a book in the stacks and found a passage on 1830s France by Charles Fourier, the utopian French philosopher, in which he talks about the dishonesty of business transactions, the tedium and deceit of family life, the hardship of small farmers, the miseries of the poor and near-destitute in great cities, the evils of naked greed, the neglect of genius, the sufferings of children and old people, the stupidity of war, the coercive mechanisms of society disguised as law, morality and the benefits of civilization. Can you believe this? I thought to myself. Everything this man said one-hundred-and-eighty years ago is true about us today. I had no choice but to write it down, so I could prove to my friends that nothing ever changes.

• Charles Simic, Take Care of Your Little Notebook