A home, my home (with banshees and blizzards)

The banshees have returned to their rightful place, hanging in suspended animations, tethered with vapor shackles to all these new brick chimneys. This time I doubt if any of the kids noticed them at all. I long suspected that my beloved childhood ghosts would wither up and die a soundless death but instead these apparitions of longing and loss, these spectres of memories and warmth lithely danced in formation to my coddled delight. Perhaps this was only to greet an old friend but they brought the great Borealis and his fierce North winds with them. Up from the years and the dirt sprung a forgotten blizzard and a blanket of white bed down the frozen river valley. The deer looked fattened with corn and the old woods, though a little thin in numbers, was a sturdy and familiar sight. To the north the bluffs played hide-and-go seek behind the biting winds and swirling snows. I couldn't be more happy today.