Turns out the bleak mid-winter rains in Minnesota finally morphed into snow last night. Nearly a foot in some parts of the state. Not so much in the Twin Cities metro. Thus it was that I wakened this morning to a landscape transformed from beigey blah to a snow-basted confection. What to say about that? Shall I rhapsodize about the magical whiteness? Easy enough to do. Whose woods these are I know. They're ours. Replete with multiple pairs of cardinals, cameos by chickadees, and assorted drop-ins that include nuthatches, finches, juncos, woodpeckers, bluejays, squirrels, rabbits, neighbor cats and the like. Oh, it's a winter wonderland, all right. But my metaphor muse insists on a different interpretation. And the darker side of my nature seems bent on complying.
For the last few years, all that is real and really ugly has been concealed by a daily dump of words, faux explanations, photo ops, absence of photos, doctored photos, and spin, all calculated to make everything appear pristine and orderly. As the bodies pile higher, however, it becomes ever harder to conceal them. Increasingly difficult to make snow in Iraq, one might say. The latest "investment" there has been labeled Number 3,000, which is only the tip of the mortality iceberg.
Did someone say "iceberg"? Like the one described as twice the size of Rhode Island that broke away in Antarctica, plunging into the Ross Sea? Be that as it may, the snow jobbers tell us that global warming is a hoax, a sham, the bleating of fear-mongers who, among other things, are warning that 2007 is apt to be the warmest year in history. Pile on that snow.
Bird flu? Influenza pandemic? Let it snow, let it snow!
Reinstate the draft? Pray for snow, and then blame the Democrats when the thaw reveals the inevitable, wrought by George.
Okay. This metaphor has run its course. You get the idea. But you gotta love that the White House press secretary is (everyone?) Tony Snow. Woo woo.
Time to go outside to refill bird feeders. Happy New Year. For real and true.