image from here
I awoke to another gray morn here on the Cutoff.
I bit my tongue, tried not to complain about the cold, felt mightily for the folks on the east coast; especially Boston.
I remember our winter of ’78/’79, with snow piled so high it bested Tom’s 6’4″ frame. Having “dibs” on parking space even floated out to the burbs that year with folks shoveling snow off their rooftops and the deepening worry of flooding if snow melts too fast.
I will admit to laughing out loud with weatherman, Jim Cantore, who jumped around with unbridled glee at the thundersnow in Boston. Alison of Apple Pie and Napalm recently remarked about weather, that “I never worry until Cantore shows up” in a comment on a recent post. It took me a moment to figure “Cantore” out. I finally remembered. He is the meteorologist from the Weather Channel who comes out in the worst of storms.
Jim Cantore was enjoying the thundersnow, which is a rare and potentially dangerous phenomenon not often witnessed. I experienced it for the first time in 2011, and wrote about it here.
But, I digress. . .
. . . as I tickle the keyboard, snow is sneaking around, barely visible. I knew it was snowing before looking outside, for the room darkened as gathering flakes shaded the skylights; white upon gray upon winter.
I turn to Billy Collins to bring some smiles on yet another colorless, wintry day, where he, too, writes about the sound of snow – and other things.
Snow Day
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.
In a while, I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch
sending a cold shower down on us both.
But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news
that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed.
the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with—some will be delighted to hear—
the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and—clap your hands—the Peanuts Play School.
So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.
And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.
Billy Collins, “Snow Day” from Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems
” . . . white upon gray upon winter.” I love this, Penny!
And I really need to find some of Billy Collins’ writings for my own. This is the second or third time I’ve seen something of his that you’ve shared, and each time I’ve been impressed with the fact that his style doesn’t at all parallel my usual expectations when I think of poetry.
LikeLike
Thank you, Karen.
I love Billy Collins’ style of poetry. His collection, “Aimless”, is a good one to look through, but, I like all his work. You might try googling The Poetry Foundation or the Writers’ Almanac, and put in his name. I think he’s even on youtube, reading his poetry. Whatever, have fun.
LikeLike
Lol, poor Cantore, nobody wants him to visit! Did you see the video of the baby watching and imitating his thunder snow freak out? It was the sweetest thing!
LikeLike
No. I haven’t see the baby. I’ll look for it.
It was so funny to see him the other day, as you’d just recently made the comment, and there he was. It was a pretty funny coincidence. You’re right; no one wants him to visit. It means storms and wind and . . . 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thundersnow, I remember that and I’m pretty sure I wrote about it too. I wouldn’t dream of jumping around outside in it like I saw in the video of Jim Cantore – too risky! Billy Collins’ poems are so clear, and perfect for me, a person who has little patience to try to figure out the meaning of more cryptic poetry!
LikeLike
You did write about thundersnow, Janet, and I think you and I had a bit of a conversation about it. Wasn’t it an interesting phenomenon when it occurred. I could almost (just almost) understand Jim Cantore’s excitement. The lightening could have been disastrous. I’d forgotten he was in Chicago in 2011 with our thundersnow – saw a video of it.
I know what you mean about “cryptic poetry”. Billy Collins is great. Does Anton still read poetry?
LikeLike
Oh yes, Anton still reads poetry! And by the way, he read Billy Collins’ poem “Love” during Kate’s wedding ceremony! It was perfect, especially the part where it refers to the girl’s high forehead, it almost made him cry! (Kate always had a high forehead, but especially when she was little!)
LikeLike
Now you have me tearing up, Janet. It is such a beautifully perfect poem and must have touched all in attendance at Kate’s wedding. Such a memorable gift from a brother to his sister.
I know I’ve mentioned it before, but, it bears repeating as it was Anton who introduced me to Billy Collins in the Chocolate Moon at home on break his freshman or sophomore year.
LikeLike
You have a way of accepting the cold and snow and translating it well for those of us who have never known a snow day! And in some ways, reading what you share, I feel a little bit of envy–I am missing out on weather phenomena. Although, I will tell you, I spoke with my friend in Boston today and if she didn’t send me photos I wouldn’t believe it. Spring will be here soon, dear Penny! Hold on! 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you for saying that, Debra. I try not to just complain about the weather here, and after a while I run out of pretty snow pictures, but, there is this realization that not all of you live in a cold climate and there are so many aspects to snow. Thundersnow is one. I didn’t experience it until 2011, at 60. It is rare, amazing, dangerous, phenomena. Don’t envy us too much, though.
I really feel for Bostonians. They have really gotten hit hard this winter with snow. Snow like that is very heavy and can cause roofs to cave in. Snowslides instead of mudslides?
I can’t wait until spring! I’m craving green. 🙂
LikeLike
Oh Penny, I feel for you and hope that spring comes soon . We had a couple of those thunderstorms in the mountains and they can be scary. I don’t like anything that has the word thunder in it. When I was a child we had severe thunderstorm in Germany.
LikeLike
I imagine thunderstorms being even more intense and dangerous at high altitudes, Gerlinde, and frightening childhood memories, I am sure. The lightening, of course, comes before the thunder, and that is what is the danger. Our first house was once hit by lightening, and it did some damage, but, fortunately, did not start a fire.
Spring. I long for it – and to see greenery again. Soon. 🙂
LikeLike
weirdly the winter of 78/79 was the year that i lived in Illinois as an exchange student and for ever more I thought that you had snow like that every winter! We had snow thunder last year.. it was pretty unsettling.. have a lovely day.. c
LikeLike
What an introduction to weather in Illinois. That was the winter that the snow never melted. It just kept piling up and up and up. I was a first time mother then. Snow thunder is unsettling, Celi, especially when you don’t see the lightening first.
Cold here now, and dipping in the minus digits. I envy you the warmth you are in right now.
LikeLike
Oh, what a blast you are having. I love this line in the Billy Collins poem: and ‘the dog will porpoise through the drifts’. You must be so tough, dealing with such extreme temperatures. I’m a softy of the temperate zone, I’m afraid.
LikeLike
That is a wonderful line, Juliet, and a perfect description of a dog in snow. As I write this, I have the news on the television, and a stream of school closures is streaming on the bottom, chuckling at Billy Collins names for various schools.
We here in northern climes are adaptable. I’ve never known any differently, although the -8 degrees F right now isn’t appreciated. The folks out on the east coast, especially the MA area, have had it far worse this year. Keep writing about the beauty of your temperate climate, my friend. I look forward to it.
LikeLike
I really love that poem, Penny – so evocative and appropriate. The US has been catching it so badly where winter weather is concerned and I really hope spring will hurry up and arrive for you.
LikeLike
I’m so pleased to know that you did, Perpetua. We are having a particularly bad day weather-wise here today; rain, snow, sleet, yuck. The east coast, however, has had and continues to have it much, much worse. Looking forward to those first, tender shoots of daffodils sometime soon.
LikeLike