We shouldn't have gone to church yesterday. It was snowing so hard you could barely see the end of the hood. A lot of people were smarter than we, they just didn't show up. And I'm sure in the grand scheme of things it won't make any difference.
After the small amount of traffic from the churches had ended the quiet was complete that it reminded me of Sundays when I was a child. There were only three churches in the little village we lived in.When services were over and everyone was home the quiet became an echoing whispering quiet punctuated only by an occasional dog bark, even that seemed hushed. But one thing you could always count on when you were outside was the wonderful odor of chicken frying. That seemed to be the Sunday dinner of choice in summer. Just about everyone had their own chickens, so I guess that was a logical choice.
I stood outside the back door on the snow covered patio and just listened to the quiet yesterday and enjoyed it , just the hiss of the snow falling and the wind whispering. Then the spell was broken, a train whistle sound like it was in my backyard. Funny how sound carries when the air is thick with snow. Enough.