Dear Viola (Vengeful Snow in January)
Dear Viola,
It’s snowing just now as I write this, just outside the window at work. It’s not a beautiful filmic snow, drifting with fat romantic flakes, not at all. Instead it’s angry snow, coming down hard and fast, snow that wants to be rain and is mad that the temperature won’t allow for it. As an act of vengeance it’s going to pile up on the roads and make for slippery driving. Fun times, here in Stephen King Country.
There is little to report that’s new at this moment. Hunter has become an expert at lighting fires in the furnace (she is quite the firestarter), and I stay out of her way when it’s time for a blaze. We are slowly working through a backload of cardboard that way, and gradually getting through a few cords of wood that we bought back in the fall in anticipation of this time of year.
We are also still semi-successful chicken wranglers. Yes, half of our flock has died off over the past couple of years, but in our defense, the majority of those were of the “random chicken just dying for no reason” type, and only a few were definitely in the “death by predators” category (foxes and raccoons; it’s better not to ask for the wet and explosive details).
How are you and Iris doing? I’m assuming things are going well simply because you haven’t written to tell me that they are going badly, but… well, 2025 was a rather grand pile of garbage all around, and it was hard to keep up with the forward momentum of the universe, and as you are well-aware, neither of us is the best at communication when things get overwhelming, and so, and so, and so…
I am taking this beginning part of the new year to try and ramp up in essentially every part of my life (and no, it’s not doing resolutions, because you know my feelings on that kind of nonsense). I have a lot of different things I’m trying to put an edge on in 2026, and one of them is to get my letter writing back up into a higher gear. Congrats: you’re the first one on the list. Doesn’t mean that the contents of said letters are going to be very thrilling just yet, but what can one do? Have to start somewhere, right? This is why you’re getting such fascinating information like that it’s taking me four hours to drink this container of coffee I brought to work with me, or how the snow is angry instead of pretty.
It ain’t all award-winning material over here today, Viola.
Gotta start somewhere though, right?
It’s almost time to do some real work here at my job for a change today, so I’m slipping this letter into an envelope and slapping a stamp on it, then popping it directly into the mail. I’d much rather you got a little bit of fluffy something than a whole lot of icky nothing in your box.
Stay safe out there. Mind the storms.
Don’t get washed away.
—Sebastian
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