Low near 20, and wind gone. Ergo, ice.

And, in the poultry department, a retelling of the myth of Baucis and Philemon, the old couple noted for their hospitality. In the myth, Jupiter spares the goose, but here, three days before Thanksgiving, the twenty-one pound turkey now chilling in the basement fridge had no Olympian to intercede. (btw, B&P ended up as trees, which, compared to the alternative available, was good.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Tree

I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
that grew elm-oak amid the wold.
'Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart's home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.

Ezra Pound