Bat guano

 Bat guano 

Gaspar wrote,
     “Where am I going? Help me,” you said. With what? I can’t help you with the snow. I understand that it went away and now it has come again. Didn’t you describe it once as “frozen bat guano”? – there were millions, billions, gazillions of ice-bats circling above your poor Valley, dropping gelid waste onto your lawns, your sidewalks, your streets. You couldn’t go outside, the stench would fill your nose, scrape its way down your throat, shut down your lungs, and you would die. I can’t help with that. Your shrink, perhaps?

I can’t recall having written that, but I have written about snow.

Jacques Callot: Les Grandes Misère de la Guerre’
February 3, 2014

Jesop’s farable: snow and cold”
June 22, 2017

“Snow Job”
April 10, 2018

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful.”

  “I don’t know. Isn’t it the yew bush
and the magnolia tree and the house
across the street that is beautiful? Take
them away, the snow looks like this.”

↓

“Snow on snow”
January 13, 2019

“winter colors”
February 3, 2021

   01.19.22