Son of man, you cannot say, or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images, where the sun beats, and the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, and the dry stone no sound of water. Only there is shadow under this red rock (come in under the shadow of this red rock), and I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Okay so this is kind of silly, but we're seriously stuck in the house due to Snowpocalypse II! Someone came by and plowed the road... only to leave a huuuuge pile of packed snow stuff at the end of our drive, and I don't mean the driveway, I mean the little pipestem that we live off of that connects to the road! *cries*