By Banah Isaac Wright’s Hollow, New Hampshire
February 2, 2021
There isn’t a groundhog in his right mind who would stick his head out of his winter den today. Not here. We’ve just had a foot of snow fall overnight, the luscious light kind, dripping down drooping hemlocks and the raised bare arms of oaks and maples. Especially around the island, the protective trees draped in white snow are lovely. There is a stray rodent, certainly not a groundhog and most likely the gray squirrel I saw on a tree a day or so ago, who races into the shed and invades my wall. Micah is watching for him from her cat shelf. I wouldn’t want to be that squirrel. She is a mighty hunter.
Right now it is peaceful. The cast iron tea kettle on the woodstove is boiling out the last bits of steam as the cast iron stove ticks upward as it heats. When it cools down, the sound ticks downward; it’s got its own music. On their beds, Ready and Abel breathe in and out as close to the stove and each other as they can get. The newest addition, Tigger, inherited from a 91-year-old friend who recently passed away, sleeps enthroned on the armchair next the heat on his favorite blanket. This doggy woodstove world is all new to him. He was a civilized pampered thing before, raised in central heating and winter visits to Florida, in expensive accomodations. He would lift his delicate hind feet off the icy ground, almost walking on his front feet, if you hauled him out on a leash on a winters’ day. Now he’s grown his first winter coat, goes out by himself into the snow encrusted driveway, belly deep. This little Toy Fox Terrier is now inspecting the chipmunk dens across the road in ten degree weather. He’s found out he’s a dog.
There’s soup in the crockpot. It is all so tranquil now, although four hours ago I was scraping off the the car, got stuck on a patch of ice, shoveled the tires out and was rescued by my neighbor and his plow truck from the town plow’s snowbank blocking the driveway. I had to go feed some cats downtown whose people are in Mexico. Soon I shall have to shovel out the woodpile, like it or not.
All I have to do to change all this is to turn on my laptop, and view the drama of a lifetime, the war of good and evil we are in. It’s a relief, is it not, to finally engage the murky enemy who burrowed under our terrain and corrupted America in every corner? Now the ugly thing is exposed, the objective clear. America will be cleansed and saved, because We the People are awake and clear-headed at last, sounding the alarm to the still drowsy deluded ones who did not want to know. How close we’ve come to going over the edge and under! As bad as it’s been these last few months, the evil is uncovered. We war in the Spirit in prayer and on the ground with pen, with words, with alarms and shofars and truth ringing out in the streets. We Appeal to Heaven, and Heaven has heard. God has got this.
Wait for the vision to become reality; it will not fail, a clean, on fire America with her rightful President to lead, to light the torches of freedom to the world again, one last time.
It will happen just as sure as the sun coming out again, beaming hot light on this white frozen stuff, it will flow down the bank and into the brook. Spring will be here soon, and the Mayflower above the chipmunks’ den will bloom pink and white again.
Evil and long dark winters never last once they come to light.