In praise of the local weekly

One of the first things I do when I go anywhere is to buy buy a local newspaper. I subscribe to two delightful local weekly papers, always the most fought over reading material in the house.
They are not only pleasantly devoid of national news, I have 24 hour news channels for that. But they are remarkably relevant to everyday life. All the local happenings, festivities and notices. "hatchens' matchens and snatchens", all carefully reported and I though I don't always know the people being reported on personally, I recognize their names.
There is always a bit of local history to read about and often wonderful photos of days gone by.
I am always curious about the past, why was this place called Sugar Creek? What was the name of the town that left all of these foundation stones? what happened to the town that is now only a name on a map?
There are the columns written by everyone from a retired English teacher( retired but not slowed down), a minister with a real flare for words, the Home Economist,and even the newspaper Editors them selves. Over the years I have come to know the families and the thoughts of these people, through their writing.
And of course there are the tried and true recipes, which thought seldom healthy are always heartily enjoyed. The best part of this is that if you read a July issue in February, you don't really feel like its "old news" , it is more like a long overdue letter.

If Candlemass be bright and clear, two winters will be in this one year.

It rained, it snow, it sleeted, and the wind blew and the temperature dropped. No fair weather in sight, on this Imbolic.

Candlemas or Imbolic being the day for new beginnings, the day when we venture out to see if it is time to waken from out winter stupors. Beginning to prepare to re-emerge into the warmth of a green and growing world, for me there are garden plans to make, may-be even a vacation to dream about. Certainly the warmth of the sun, and the sight of flowers, will be more than welcome after this perpetual winter.

Under her blanket of snow and ice Gia stirs, but is not yet ready to rise from her slumbers, the earth is half of the way to Spring. And we are half of the way through the worst of winter. On this day generations before us took stock of their supply of stored food and fuel, hopeful that they had enough for the rest of the season. and i can take stock of all of the projects that will have to wait until next winter, because as soon as possible, I will be out side playing in dirt.