Where civilization ends.

The snow is finally falling. The blizzard has arrived. I personally judge a blizzard's blizzardness by how glad I am to not be driving in it. This one ranks pretty high. I'm going to assume right now that that the major highways are relatively empty around these parts. Or at least I hope they are, for the safety of the drivers.

It's getting late and I've been peeking my head of out the curtains every few minutes for the past four hours. I have to remind myself that the chain link fence is four feet tall. As the snow settles down around it, the part sticking out of a snow hill shrinks more. It's at at most 18 inches now, left above the snowline.

The gouges in the road from rare passing cars heal up rapidly from freshly fallen snow. Where wheels expose and stir up black chunks of iced over slush, layer after layer of white powder flutters over it.

The deep snow and rolling drifts is where civilization ends.

This is where people make a mad dash to the grocery store before the blizzard hits. They buy their own comfort foods, a diet for hunkering down in the home for 24 hours. The snow falls and turns the world into wilderness again.

It's very quiet here. Cars stay in their homes waiting for warmer weather. Sound is absorbed by the falling acustical cushion of snow.