Winter garden

Last week, I started complaining about the muddy, colorless winter weather. Today, I’m delighted every time I glance outside. The garden is etched in black and white, transformed into an Escher lithograph. Balls of ice-encrusted bee balm sway on brittle stalks. Privet bushes hunker down, nearly smothered by the heavy, wet snow. Cardinals flit, electric red. I declare this the loveliest winter weather ever, especially if you like shape and form and contrast.

Over the weekend, Rochester Episcopalians voted the Rev. Prince Singh their new bishop. In an earlier blog, I noted that Singh was the only candidate who mentioned a personal love for music in his profile, so I'm glad. A lot of vital, enduring music arises from religious settings. Think of the Campbell brothers. Aretha Franklin. J.S. Bach. Support for good church music is important.

Singh, who’s 45, will be installed in May, after the snow melts and new, green shoots thrust up out of the dirt.



I miss the snow

Aside from a damp half-inch that melted within hours, we've had no snow whatsoever. I miss the snow. I know it makes travel difficult, and shoveling is never fun, but four to six inches on a Saturday really be that bad?



The snow is almost gone. Alas, it's Slushland now.