The Easter season began and Grandmama was selling off our belongings. Our sleepy Iowa town sold corn and gossip by the bushel but didn’t have a lot of room for old jazz musicians like Grandmama was. It was the 1950’s.
"Cinnamon and spice, say everything thrice..."
The snow stretched on for ages, but it didn’t matter in that moment because there was death on the horizon and death is worse than the blistering cold. If you are ever chilled to the bone, be still of mind, be grateful, because you know that you are still alive…you are able to feel it. This is a blessing...this is from the Wolpertinger Code.