1 96 Next to the Ground 



thermometer went tumbling from just below 

 freezing to a little above zero. Then the 

 dust became a wall of thick soft flakes, small 

 at first, but all the while growing bigger, 

 until at last they fell with little soft, fat plops, 

 like the patting of fairy fingers. They kept 

 it up until after midnight. The moon rose 

 then, and the strengthening wind blew every 

 hint of cloud, or vapor even, out of the air. 

 It was a still-voiced wind, neither shrieking 

 around the eaves nor howling down the 

 chimneys. To make up for that, it cut 

 with an edge of tempered steel, and when the 

 sun rose over a white muffled world, mys- 

 teriously strained all warmth out of the pink 

 shining, and flung it back into stellar space. 



Notwithstanding, everybody came out with 

 a whoop of joy. Joe in particular saw so 

 much fun ahead he danced and capered as he 

 buttoned on his second pair of trousers over 

 the first. When the legs of both pairs 

 were snug inside his high boots, the boots 

 duly greased, and his feet further protected 

 by two pairs of home-knit woollen socks, one 

 pair outside the boots, one pair in, he was 

 ready to face and conquer the snow and all 

 its works. 



Some of them were pitiful. For instance 

 among the birds. A partridge covey deeply 

 snowed in will perish without help, though 



