Most woeful of winter

Our neighbor, "Mr. J", passed away last week; about a week after I did a post on him. We finally learned that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. We are shocked that it took him in less than 5 years. It took Parkinson's about 20 years to take both my mother and my aunt. Neither way is better or fair. Rest in Peace, Mr J.

We are in the grip of a record Midwestern snowstorm freaking blizzard. We considered ourselves lucky to survive the drive home from work Tuesday. Meester got out his snowblower and I shoveled. We finished the driveway and the sidewalks and a minute later you couldn't tell we had shoveled at all. We live on the edge of the city limits, so we are one of the last streets for the city snowplows to reach. We will spend all day Wednesday shoveling our property, but will probably not be able to drive off our property. The last time we had a big snow, which wasn't as bad as this one, I got tired of waiting for the snow plow and shoveled the street myself.

It all makes me feel bereft and disconsolate, despondent and melancholy, and cold. I feel as if the ice weasels have come and eaten my soul.
But I'm still alive...and life goes on...and in its time...Spring will come again.
I will live to whine and blog another day.
How does winter make you feel?