Rhyme of the Day

So tonight was my family's Christmas Eve get-together at my parents' house. My mom and dad were there, I was there, my eight brothers and sisters were there, our spouses and children were there. It was a whole passel of people eating pizza and passing out presents in an intricate pattern of gift exchange determined by lot.

Then we drove home (3 short blocks) and watched In The Heat Of The Night, the great 1967 racial bias / police procedural. Sidney Poitier is the black Philly homicide expert and Rod Steiger is the white small town sheriff who doesn't want Poitier's help (at first) in solving a murder.

Ray Charles sings the title track, which was a hit song at the time.

Rhyme of the Day:

But was it really right
To title my blog "In the Heat of the Night"?
Outside it's twelve. Fahrenheit.

For you Celsius-speaking folk, that's minus eleven. Brrr.

Just barely snowing. The lawns in my neighborhood still look green. We had some Thanksgiving snow, but it mostly melted away shortly thereafter. It got cold again, and stayed cold, but it hasn't snowed.

Now lazy snowflakes are swirling around -
Floating, refusing to fall to the ground.

The forecast in the Trib this morning is saying an inch and a half "in spots." The location and size of thse "spots" is not disclosed. The language of weather prediction takes after the Delphic oracle - terms are vague but suggestive, and can claim correctness for a variety of outcomes.

These flurries
Better hurry.

They seem too slow
To make much snow.

My children are still sleeping snug in their beds at 9 a.m. When they awake, we shall have our gift opening by the tree.

Peoples of the northern hemisphere like to put a festival right about now in the calendar. By December 25 it becomes clear that the lengthening nights are no longer lengthening, but rather starting to shrink, yielding an increase of daylight. The Romans had a name for it: Sol Invictus. Sun Unconquered.

And so, gentle readers, I wish you all goodness, all warmth, and all light.