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Ice Storm Donelle Dreese A power outage has a romance to it, a boon of excitement in the blind digging for candles and matches in a drawer of lawless knick knacks that feels like a box of small toys. Then comes the glow, the house an empty church waiting for parishioners. Then the blankets, thick socks you were saving for that really cold day. After a few hours there's nothing you want more than a hot meal or coffee at the very least. You blow out the candles, listen to the trees echo as they snap and bank on the frozen grass in the middle of a December dark. In the morning, the sidewalk is a deer trail draped in the arc and fallout of an ice laden wilderness, barely visible behind a frozen farm house. What is it like for a tall birch tree to bow down in deep, glazed humility to touch the earth with its glassy fingertips after spending a lifetime reaching for the sky?
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 2009
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