The sound of snowblowers and plows break the silence of the morning. Men dressed in beige or navy blue snow suits, ski masks making them anonymous, slowing moving back and forth throwing plums of snow into the air. The rhythm of winter continues. How easy we have it now, compared to those who journeyed to the Great Plains in search of freedom. It's cold inside my home, but really? I often think about my grandmother who was living outside Red Lodge, Montana in the early 1900's. Her stories of shoveling through the drifts to the barn, making tunnels and hanging lanterns. The needed for a "roof hatch" because the snow drifts would totally cover the other exits. Not having glass windows, only layers of deer or buffalo hide tightly stretched over the windows of their sod home. It took over a year for them to have a frame home with glass windows. She raised two small children under the age of 10 in this climate. I can only imagine, but on days like today I imagine and give thanks for snowblowers that break the silence of the morning.