Friday night with the pellet stove going full blast and the outside wood boiler gobbling up wood as if it were a last meal. Temperatures in the teens for the entire month forecast, which of course can change in either direction in a moment, due to the profound and upredictable influence of Lake Superior. With the exception of the Keweenaw, nobody else in the Upper Peninsula comes close to our snowfall and severe weather. I am going out for a Christmas card shot tomorrow after chores, or more likely on Sunday, with the HolgAngulon 612 and a few rolls of Ilford 120 FP4+.
“That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.”
― William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets