The Inner Dome of Heaven, Fallen.

Besides the ominous cracking of some unwieldy trees in our yard and the 18 hour power outage, I enjoyed the ice storm.  One of the first things I noticed was the lovely irony of our Florida license plate shrouded by icicles.  Since my husband in in the miltary, we maintain our residency in Florida.  The ice was so thick, I couldn't open the trunk without a bit of help.

It was fun to have to snuggle in and the freedom from technology creates a beautiful silence.  I got out handwork that I had put away long ago and sat in the front window where there was more light to watch our Yellow Springs neighbors pass into town (where, thankfully, Sunrise Cafe was open, yum).

I couldn't help but think again and again of Robert Frost's poem "Birches." 

Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

In my mind again and again, as I stepped on broken icicles or maneuvered around a batch of ice I thought of his "heaps of broken glass." 

Now, the ice is melting and it's safe to walk again, but I'm thankful that weather can remind us to slow down:  to walk more slowly lest we slip, to do work with our hands because that's all we have, to snuggle with our loved ones because there is no heat and the human furnace burns hot.  Perhaps a little bit of heaven did fall.