Hello
I am pretty sure I am in a better mood than when I wrote and posted my blog last time, which was last year now. I sit before my window watching the snow start again this early afternoon. Six hours almost to the minute that I watched it start this morning. At that time my phone weather app assured me that it was cloudy out and a “wintry mix” was not to begin until noon. That early morning snow lasted half an hour and left a good, solid, slippery dusting. I trod through it around mid-morning from my house to the river. Such a wonderful river. It flowed on this day silently, slowly. It carries a skim of ice along the edges, and no visible debris–always a gift from a river that traverses this city and many others along its not inconsiderable length from source to sea.
As I stood two seagulls, about 10 minutes apart flew northwest along the river route. Then 25 geese in a double V that shifted shape as I watched, front runners falling back, rear guard sliding forward, flew east turning, as they shape shifted, toward the northeast. I listened and, yes, thank you geese, they began a conversation among themselves. Then fell silent again. There was little other sound, if I inclined my attention upward. As I leveled my gaze again, I heard and then saw the everpresent vehicular cadences. If only we had not invented combustion engines and their unavoidable audibility, nor, now, for that matter, electric, which hum quite loudly. We would not, of course, have such long distance in short time spans mobility, but is that bad? Here is something to think about. Given our propensities–to imagine and then image every place we go in our own image–is it bad to limit our reach? I wonder.
I must tell you that after it snowed this early morning, and as I walked back uphill from the river to the section of the city where I live, it warmed to a couple of degrees over freezing and the snow coat all disappeared. Then, it sleeted. Then is was still and the pavements everywhere returned to visibility from their early morning bright whiteness. And now, early afternoon, the second snow is falling–larger, distinctive shapes distinctly visible, and blanketing all within view. The dogwood out back and the birches out front are wearing attractive and increasingly lofty shawls. (BTW, my phone says it is 37 degrees and sleeting right now. It is NOT!)
So, these are today’s little mysteries.
“Whose woods these are
I think I know
His house is in the village though
He will not see me stopping here…..”
I’m pretty sure anyone who has gone to school in the USA recognizes these lines as part of Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” quoted here from memory, so I cannot vouch for the correct punctuation or stanza breaks.
Oil up your snow shoes!
whereIwonder&why 