Before:
After:
Need we say more? 😉
PS Don’t worry, Grandma, we only stayed at the park for about 10 minutes then hurried back home! Snow looks prettier than it feels!
Tag: Snow
The snow lies still
The snow lies still upon the rooftops.
From a few houses
smoke rises in a misty haze
and the streetlights blaze
like midnight suns.
All is silent
except the steady breathing of my toddler
whom I’m rocking back to sleep.
In the upper bedroom
across the street
insomnia reigns
and the blue lights of the television
flash out a noiseless dance.
But the snow lies still upon the rooftops
and silence greets my sleepy glance outside.
Snow Scent
Last night it smelled like snow–
when I stepped outside
the air was crisp and icy–
pregnant with promise.
In my garden
the late blooming sunflowers
with their damp, cold petals
looked crestfallen and forlorn
as if thinking:
“I wasn’t expecting this!”
In the early morning half-light
I see the rooftops are powdered with icing sugar.
The kids wake up with excitement
and begin dreaming of gingerbread.
My seven year old starts spouting:
“Snow says Christmastime…stuff has to stop growing sometime.
If flowers never stopped growing there would be vines everywhere
Even in the road, and the cars could hardly go.”
Well, there you go. The seasons explained!
Spring Forward
Spring forward–
move the clocks!
Let the daylight stretch into the afternoon
like a sleepy cat
awakening.
But this spring feels late–
the snow lingers in patches,
though sobbed on by rain,
and grimly threatens to return
in mid-March flurries.
One wishes it was weather
more suited for blizzards
from Dairy Queen
but the chill damp air
crushes dreams of summer.
Undaunted we spring forward,
planning spring in our dining room–
filling every ledge and shelftop
with seedlings and sprouting things
baby bok choi and alyssum flowers
peas and beans with their bright green leaves–
tiny banners raised in triumph against the grey.
We are even sprouting an avocado —
its plump brown pit skewered by toothpicks
and half-submerged in water.
Every day I look with delight at the long white root
shooting out like a streak of hope
seeking life.
Spring forward
and if spring won’t leap with you,
give it a push!
Homer at dawn
Every morning “dawn with her rosy fingers”
tickles the snow covered mountaintop
and, softening her cold shoulder,
she begins to blush.
Images of Silence
I.
The still water reflects the beauty of the sky
gorgeous billows of blue-tipped clouds
The rippling water has a busy beauty of it’s own
but takes all the attention for itself
Sometimes the noise of so much chatter
(mostly my own)
becomes like a wind which
blows out my interior candle
I need some silence
some still air
to let the flame rekindle
to warm the ember to a steady glow
burn brightly enough to heat me
from the inside out
light streaming forth
my eyes as stained glass
shining
II.
The still morning lake
sits silent
grey and reflective
full of slightly fuzzy trees
solemnly upside down
green but not laughing
The majestic cedar trees
wave their thin green hands
ever so slightly
like ancient queens
acknowledging their people
who celebrate with the sudden confetti
of falling snow
Down below, the dew-spangled moss twinkles
and the ferns bow their heads shyly
Slippery salaal leaves shine
next to delicate huckleberry bushes
not yet adorned with tiny red berries
I’ll have to come back
in the summer
In the mean time
all these pieces of beauty
fill up the puzzle of my soul
III.
Sitting here in the quiet chapel with
tall windows like eyes into the forest
I watch the snow fall against the cedars
like mercy from heaven
a gentle steady blessing
a constant message of beauty
a gift from one greater
ever reaching towards me
I am here I am here I am here
The snow falls
and my sleeping baby
breathes warmly on my chest
The candles glow
and the lake calmly receives
the many kisses of snowflakes
First Snow
Some of my best memories of growing up are of playing in the snow with my brothers. When we lived on Red Mountain Road, outside the village of New Denver, up the highway and 2 km down a gravel road, we had lots of snow. We had to walk on that icy road through the forest to the school bus, all bundled up and roasting in our snow suits, while our breath curled out like faint dragon smoke. Sounds like a grandma story, but it’s true.
When we got home, the things we would do with snow! We’d build sledding runs down the driveway, which my rambunctious brothers would do snowboard jumps from, while I of course slid down on my butt, thanks very much! We’d build giant snow men bigger than us, heaving up the big snowballs together and decorating our creation with a hat and face.
On really cold days, when the top of the four feet of snow was a frozen crust, we’d tromp along on top of it, as delicately as we could in our mega snow boots. We would see how far we could get before our feet would break the crust and leave us half stuck in snow and laughing as we hauled ourselves out again.
When we moved into town, we still had to contend with the snow, and a family chore was shoveling the snow off the roof. It was very satisfying to work together, kind of like an old pioneers, resisting the snow’s urge to wrap our home in a sparkling white blanket of silence. Up there, seeing everything covered in snow, with more thick flakes falling through the trees and kissing our rosy cheeks, you could just take a deep breath and be happy.
Now we’re on the mild west coast so snow is more of a temporary decoration than anything else. Still, there’s wonder and beauty in that first snow fall of the season. Here’s my little one gazing out at it.
Just East Of Crazy Land 