The icy air assaulted us as we bid farewell on Michigan Ave. It was a frigid day with a -8°F wind chill factor. Not a day to be out for the faint of heart, but, we Midwesterners are not the type to swoon over snow and cold. We sally forth with our heads bent to the wind and off we go.
I decided to walk back to Northwestern Station, bidding goodbye to my friends who were heading to the Ogilvie Center for their train after an inspiring lecture, lunch, and the visual excitement that permeates the Art Institute of Chicago. I needed to walk for the exercise. I wanted to walk for a window display that caught my eye earlier.
The walk west on Adams skirts the financial district. Not necessarily an area known for holiday window displays. State Street. Michigan Ave. They are the streets where extravagant visions are a feast for the eyes come December.
Still, something caught my eye, and when a vision captures my imagination, dear reader, you may know that it captures my heart as well and I’m not usually deterred.
On the corner of what I believe is the Home Insurance Building, windows, lining south and west, held masculine forms that were clad in the most properly arrayed displays of tweed and tartan and wool. Sophisticated dioramas of the aristocratic set, with a dusting of snow and the branches of birches amid silver and leather, wicker and wood.
As the wind was having its way with me, I bent my head to thwart its assault and there, hung low along the plate panes, were the words of my most favored poem; Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost.
“Whose woods these are I think I know” were carved in the panes as if etched by a diamond on glass.
“He gives his harness bells a shake . . . ” and there, I swear, was a strop of bells.
My friend, I walked the windows, a bellman at the neighboring Marriott tipping his hat at my determination, and then, bracing against the wind coming round from the Chicago River, trudged to my train, and the miles I had yet to go before home.
Settled into my seat, warmer, I reached into my purse, and discovered my camera. I held it in my hand, just in case a picture came, and it did as the train rolled along its long track, covering the miles toward home.
That good picture certainly did come along! I am one with the doorman at the Marriot, in admiring your tenacity in that weather (I am in awe of all mid-westerners I guess — having never lived where I had to withstand days and days of ice and snow) … Oregonians don’t let rain stop them, but that’s a little different. I have always loved Robert Frost.
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What would we do without our cameras, Sallie? We mid-westerners build up a tough skin, but, then, I think most anywhere one lives, folks adapt to their climate. One of these days, we WILL get to Oregon. It has always been a destination I’ve longed for. Robert Frost – me too.
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Penny, you are so staunch! I checked out the Robert Frost poem, which is beautiful and I can see why you love it. When I was a child and heard my first Robert Frost poem at school, I thought he was a relative of Jack Frost. This poem confirms it!
PS Have just got back from the library, trudging in the heat of the day, bringing back ‘Evenings at Five’ – time to put my feet up.
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That’s funny, Juliet. It is quite understandable why you would make such a connection to Jack and Robert Frost. Memorizing “Stopping by Woods . . . ” was a required memorization for many of us and one I have always loved, but, Frost wrote so many wonderful poems.
I had to smile, hearing you say you were “trudging in the heat of the day” as it was right about when I was trudging through the cold. They we were, Juliet, each trudging our own distances, but, still trudging, determinedly, on opposite ends of this wonderful earth. Love it.
Hoe “Evenings at Five” moves you as it did me.
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Burrrr. Made me shiver just reading about your adventure that reflects your tenacity, state of health, (excellent) and desire to see those windows! And it was worth it. I do admire you—you’re one tough cookie! What was your attire for this??? I will never complain about cold weather at my house again.
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My attire. Are you ready, Marilyn? Tights, under long pants with an extra pair of socks, a long sleeved shirt under a wool sweater, with a big, decorative scarf, all topped off with a long, black, hooded winter coat topped with a shawl, a pair of leather gloves under a pair of mittens. Oh, yes, boots! With the wind dipping under my hood, I looked like the flying nun – or a witch from Hogwarts.
The windows were worth it. Warmer today. 32°. Snowstorm on its way.
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Worth all of it for the photo, Penny. You are a lady after my own heart with your winter wear. I always pile on at least as much.
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Thanks, Andra. Layering. It’s all about the layering, though, I’m glad I didn’t fall as I’m sure I would have looked like Ralphy from The Christmas Story.
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I love your picture and of course one of my all time favorite poems. I can still recite it. I had a marvelous 5th grade teachers who always had us memorizing poems. I loved it and hated both. I was shy about reciting the poem, but was always glad that I had it in my head. I had to do a solo line in front of the entire PTA. It was that controversial line “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” Where did he intend to put that comma any way? It moved around in various copies. I don’t care where it is, I love the comma.
We are in the deep freeze here with Jack Frost making his way across the mid west. We are all hunkered in for the duration.
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Isn’t it amazing that we can’t remember where we put our car keys, but, thanks to excellent teachers, we know the words to such things as poems and speeches and songs? Now, how did I miss the comma controversy. I have several volumes, including Susan Jeffers’ illustrations, that I will look more closely at to see where the comma is. Kindred spirits, as we know, with Frost among the many favorites, Janet.
I think you have way more snow than we do, and those open prairies can certainly let that old wind blow and blow and blow. We got several inches last night and this morning. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Just wish it was a wee bit warmer. Stay hunkered.
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I’m glad you answered Marilyn with your attire. I was wondering!! It sounds rather magical to me; a scene from a movie. I would probably not make it, however. LOL! Last week when it was really so cold for Southern California, the common talk was “Wow! This is really COLD–not like midwestern cold, but COLD!” I must have heard those words a couple of dozen times and it’s a given that we know our cold is absolutely nothing like other parts of the country experience, and I think we are all in awe of what you experience as a regular part of your travels. You are hearty! But I return to what I said at the beginning, Penny. You make it very clear to me that there is tremendous beauty in the experiences of a good old-fashioned midwestern winter! I wish I could see those lovely storefronts. I’ve heard how special they are. Sounds like you had a great day–and you should be very proud of yourself. Glad you have seat warmers. LOL!
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Perhaps a scene from the movie The Christmas Story? the one where little Ralphie is so overdressed for the weather, in his snowsuit, where he falls and can’t get up? tee hee That would be me, Debra, still, at 64, bundled up.
We have had some pretty cold days already. I think we may be in for a long winter. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s been cold for your part of of the country – and cold is cold.
Thank you. There is beauty in snow that is hard to explain, and the trees take on new dimensions with the squirrels’ nests all capped in white. I wish you could see the deer walking about at night in the dark in snow.
Ah. Seat warmers. They are the best of inventions. This is the second car we’ve had them in and now I don’t know what I would do without them.
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Lovely atmospheric post, Penny. A feast for all the senses. Axxx
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Such a generous thing to say, Annie. Thank you very much.
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Gosh, you Mid-Westerners are made of sterner stuff than me, Penny. I felt cold just reading your description of that bitter weather. Thank you for the unusual image and the haunting poem, with its last lines which I’ve known for ages without knowing where they came from. 🙂
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It is a poem that many school children learned by heart, Perpetua, and my favorite. Over the years, Stopping by Woods . . . has been associated with Christmastime, but, any snows brings it to mind, as do life’s trials and tribulations “with miles to go before I sleep.”
We are pretty tough here, Perpetua, but, if memory serves me correct, you and DH made it through a pretty rough winter last year with a lot of grit and determination, much to my admiration.
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