(Written yesterday, Sunday, January 27, 2013)
I’d almost forgotten what a gray winter day looked like! After all, it seems we’ve had nothing but endless days of sunshine, clear skies, and mostly mild temperatures.
Today, though, a wild freezing rain has arrived on the back of strong and howling winds dashing about outside my workroom where I write this. I cannot see out because both the eastward-facing window screens are completely iced over—much like a glazed donut—and soon it will be dark and it won’t really matter anyway.
In days of old, this would have been snow, and folks would be outside right now, shovels in hand, and working to clear their walks and driveways and carrying on in true winter fashion. If one were to venture out now, I suspect there would be many mishaps—slipping, sliding, and falling—in attempting to get anywhere.
Since I have nowhere to go anyway, I see no reason at all to even think about leaving the warmth and comfort of my house and writing room. It’s intriguing, though, to think about the conditions which rage out there now. It’s always on days such as this—rare, indeed—that I long to pull from my book shelves those wonderful stories with inclement weather as a major part of each.
Point in case, most anything by Jack London goes down well on a day such as this. To Build a Fire never fails to create that sense of loneliness and solitude, nor do his longer works such as The Call of the Wild, White Fang, and The Sea Wolf. They definitely go well with a cup of something hot (coffee, preferably) and, perhaps, the comforting heat from the snapping and crackling flames in the fireplace.
It’s a good feeling to know that my collection of Jack London tales—Tales of the North—sits ready for days such as this. I believe I’ll cut this post short and pay a visit to the world of Jack London. May your afternoon and evening be as good…MLA