I do love a good snowstorm. Everything is so pretty.

I have a lot of bamboo on the property. it gets weighed down with the snow and much of it is now laying across the driveway. Just a quick shake stands it back up again.

As I write on Tuesday the forecasters say the snow will turn to rain and be gone by morning. Such a pity!

Northern latitude children deserve more of it. Nearly half of my childhood in western Pennsylvania was spent in the stuff. We never even got snow days from school. The school buses were equipped with tire chains.

As adults, we are not quite so happy moving it around, cleaning off cars and navigating daily tasks.

How I wish I would take advantage of down time and actually do the tasks needing to be done. My pile of tax receipts sits on the desk, looking at me accusingly. I literally need to be chained to the desk.

The onions I planted in the greenhouse are up and ready to be moved from the propagating mats.

I plan to replace them with the newly-arrived Select Seeds order. I have good luck with perennial seeds and they last forever in a garden.

This year I have mountain mint, Angelica wedding candles mullein, pallida echinacea, Colorado mix yarrow and yellow Russian hollyhock.

For fun I seeded some radishes in large pots. They take a mere month before they are edible and can take the likely freezing nights since the greenhouse has no heat.

It’s wonderfully warm in there on a sunny day but just like outside otherwise.

Last week I had jury duty. We watched the predictable video about public service.

I knew this fact but got so steamed being reminded of it: women were unable to serve on juries in Massachusetts until the 1950s. I was in elementary school at that time. Then again, my grandmothers were grown women with children before they could vote.

I thought about the classic Henry Fonda movie, Twelve Angry Men.

I know who should really be angry.

I’m watching a car show in front of my house. For some reason, many folks have chosen to take to the road in the middle of a snow storm. I have yet to see any plows go by. Most likely they will work all night, making noise. I hope these people get unstuck and head home.

On Tuesday afternoon I received a text from someone reporting that several of the Callery pear trees lining Clough Lane had branches that broke under the weight of the storm. I remember them being planted in 1970.

Over the years many have split and fallen. The tree expert Michael Dirr calls that type of tree “the Russian roulette” of the landscape world. It is notorious for breaking. There is a large one in the corner of the Baptist church yard in Vineyard Haven. I’ve often wondered if it will take out the old stone wall.

Here it is Wednesday morning. There is nothing quite like the sunrise over a snowy landscape. All seems right with the world.

I woke to the news of the Democratic win in George Santos’s congressional district in New York. This bodes well for the party, regardless of the mainstream press’s continual pearl clutching about Joe Biden’s age. The press never did this to FDR but were able to see the larger picture.

We all know how the non-issue of Hillary’s emails cost her the election. And now Robert Hur has managed to exonerate Joe Biden’s classified document case and simultaneously picture him as practically drooling in a corner.

I for one go for old and experienced as opposed to crazy and dangerous.