— To Patty Maybe it's sheltering today under a blizzard of paid bills and bank receipts, or maybe it flew south. Do you wonder, dear, why old age (a murder of crows) greets us with cawing? We've faced its raw music lightheartedly, scattering our last crumbs among mourning doves, which, just in the nick of time, pecked them before it snowed. Numb is indeed what our paired hearts must hope to be to keep pounding through another season of teeth-chattering cold. Calamity has not yet touched us, love, which is reason enough for good cheer and celebration. The snow flowers like a white carnation.