Last night, we got another couple of inches. More significantly, the Land Where It Never Snows (aka Kingsport) received some snow and significant ice. I nearly spit my morning coffee all over myself while looking at the news updates at 0630. There it was, on the computer and on the tv screen: "Kingsport City Schools CLOSED." From what I understand from friends and coworkers, this is an event as rare as total solar eclipses or Republicans nominating someone with a brain and a regenerated heart.
Even more significantly, when the Kingsport City schools are closed, my office is closed. I called my office manager to make sure, and she confirmed that we would all be taking a snow holiday. She said that the ice in her area was very bad. Her Schnauzer went outside to relieve her bladder and reportedly fell down several times trying to navigate the porch and deck. MeeMaw called someone from her office and the mutual decision was "None of us are going to try and go anywhere." So Possum Cough is a warm haven on this brilliantly white day. As soon as MeeMaw eats a bit of oatmeal, I'm going to escort her over to one of the adjoining pastures so we can see how it looks under this coverlet of confectioner's sugar.
It's still sifting down, fine and delicate. We're supposed to get another one to three inches today, and the temperatures are quite brutal. It's seven degrees outside right now, and the windchill is - get this - 15 degrees below zero.
Our only regret at the moment is that we aren't well-stocked on bird seed. The poor things are flittering all over the four feeders, and there's nary a seed to be had. I'll probaby crumble up some of MeeMaw's homemade bread later and sprinkle it out for them. Biscuit and Frito met me at the back door this morning, meowing and trying to slip past me into the warmth of the farmhouse. I fed them and knocked out the four-pound iceberg from their water dish and refilled it with water. They will be able to drink for an hour or so before the thing begins again to turn into a miniature skating rink.
While we're outside getting our exposed parts numb, I'll leave y'all with a triplet of my favorite Eric Johnson tunes. The first one, Manhattan, is one of the few "cool jazz"-esque songs that I can tolerate, mostly because of EJ's great tone. Tone is everything. And his method of jumping unpredictably between modes (from mixolydian to phrygian, in this one) is nice, too.
The second one, an acoustic display, is A Song For Life. What I particularly enjoy about Johnson's fingerpicking style is its distinctive percussiveness (this is the same thing I love about Gilbert O'Sullivan's quirky piano-playing). You can really hear him digging into those notes.
And finally, here's his well-known Cliffs of Dover, which was the first thing I ever heard him play (on Austin City Limits, I believe). It's impossible for me to listen to this song and remain in a somber mood.
Enjoy the day loved ones. We'll be back with more later, d.v.
