A Tidings of Magpies

For those of you who do not know, and why would you--I've been away from this blog for some time--I have two daughters, one in New Orleans and the younger newly moved to Alaska for a job. Hubby went up in October with her to settle her into her apartment, meet the roommate, get a car, insurance, find a grocery store. I had scheduled a week off in November,  a desperate attempt to not be a stressed maniac while cooking,  the week of Thanksgiving which gave me time to fly up there.  Trust me. You need a week. The flight there from the Midwest is a commitment. Passed over this lovely bit of scenery. Believe it's the Canadian Cascade Mountain Range. The temps were in the negative numbers. They've had snow for some time now and the roads are packed ice. You get used to it. The prettiest place for me was Creamer's Field, a migratory bird sanctuary 10 minutes from town. Quiet and still. Pizza is a poor show there. Anyone with a good recipe could make...

by Joyce Sutphen Dr. Zhivago  was playing at the Paramount Theater in St. Cloud. That afternoon, we went into Russia, and when we came out, the snow was falling—the same snow that fell in Moscow. The sky had turned black velvet. We’d been through the Revolution and the frozen winters. In the Chevy, we waited for the heater to melt ice on the windshield, clapping our hands to keep warm. On the highway, these two things: a song from  Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and that semi-truck careening by. Now I travel through the dark without you and sometimes I turn up the radio, hopeful the way you were, no matter what.