Dec 21, 2009 TW wrote:

Peeking out, I saw tens of thousands mourning my passing. Waving photos and tearing their lips as they wailed, the human flood was suddenly overrun by militia units swinging batons and Zamzam bottles. “Great day in the morning!” I yelled, “I can’t believe little Christian boys and girls can act this way!” -But much less than that and more: It’s sifting snow over the seas already shaped, the sky delicious pearl above the ecstatic white below, bits of pitch-green fir lowering through here and there, but with a fine note of humor. At night the indigo settles solemnly over a lunar perfection, and in the morning I skeetle out to see what new treasure has been heaped. Lots of minute colored birds -more than I ever saw before- up and down and over everything, apparently playing any game they can think up. I could see traces of their fun this morning as I followed the little footprints, could almost hear their giggling as they stomped around as powerfully as they could. And what looked like the prints of a single deer, although the woods around here are too tentative for deer and I’ve never seen them. Small feet, too. After speaking to Steffen, I figure it must be what we would translate as a roebuck. Strange, though: never saw that around before either. And why alone? I tell you it’s embarrassingly like a fairy tale here.