Close to 3:30 Vermont time, I walked into my home after a somewhat harrowing 30 mph drive on snow-packed roads from the airport (and that, after a long delay). “Yes, you should have stayed in a hotel by the airport,” Ken told me, but once he aimed his mom’s 4-wheel drive toward the airport, he figured he might as well keep going.
The snow in Vermont has been falling steadily all day, and according to one of my students just leaving campus, all is quiet and still. The snow in Kansas has stopped — at least for a while — until the freezing rain, snow, and eventually a thunderstorm envelop us this weekend.
Betwixt and between, I saw 36,000 above the earth in a speeding bullet of a tiny plane, marveling at the stars, and then as we descended, the layers of cloud that finally unveiled base-ball-diamond-shaped orange glows in long lines, sometimes straight and occasionally curving. The shapes morphed to crescents or triangles, depending on what the filmy clouds revealed, and eventually, I saw that this string of lights wrapped around the earth were street lights.
Now my home holds me in its glowing palm. I lean back in gratitude.