…strips the forest bare.
That was the psalm for this morning, and the lectionary certainly got it right. It has been blowing a gale all day long, rattling the windows and generally acting as if it might be March instead of January.
Right now, it is 45-F, with the wind blowing at 30 mph, and a wind chill of about 30. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be 60.
Pneumonia weather.
Somebody up the street from us must have gotten a machine gun for Christmas. For almost two hours, we were serenaded to the sound of WWIII with almost non-stop automatic weapon fire. It went on from shortly before 4 PM to almost 6 o’clock. Considering the distance those guns can shoot, we can only hope nobody on I-95 was injured.
People are just plain crazy, you know that?
We are going back to church in a few minutes for a bagpipe concert. In spite of the name D’Amario, Fr. M is mostly Irish, and plays the pipes. This started as a Twelfth Night celebration, but is now a Winter Festival. There was a ham dinner at 6, which didn’t interest us, but we will brave the icy blasts to go hear the good father and his teacher play the pipes.