images of snow – february 1996 by Rg Gregory
snow is a thousand flowers
the chinese probably said
hundreds and thousands this morning
drop their garlands on my head
last night the festoons started
long before we went to bed
snow is a white-furred rabbit
the chinese probably wrote
hedgerows and fields this morning
wear a similar fluffy coat
last night the winter danced back
with a white fur round its throat
snow is a treacherous fox-face
the chinese probably thought
it lurks in wait this morning
for the weak and overwrought
last night it laughed its head off
loving the fear it’s brought
is a fear of snow. We have snow now. If you are a chionophibiaist, you might want to avoid the Great Lakes region here in the United States. The snow has fallen in fat cottony lumps on the tips of shrubs and trees and is coating the sides of trees. If the sun would have shone today, I think everything would have had that sparkle that dazzles me and holds me transfixed for long periods of time. So all of this snow begs me to make note of one, two or maybe more, snow facts.
- Snow is transparent! It isn’t white. Honestly! It reflects so much color that our eyes can’t translate and they see it as white.
- Snow flakes are always 6 sided, though some of those sides can be quite misshapen.
- Each snowflake is made up of 2 to 200 crystals which leads me to…
- The largest snowflake! It was found in Montana a long, long time ago in an era far, far away. In 1887, a snowflake measuring 15 inches (!) across was found! It was also 8 (!) inches thick. How would you like that *little* bit of a snowflake hitting your windshield at 55 mph?
- The average snowfall in my little part of the world is 70.8 inches per year. If you are in the states, you can see your average here.
- Matching snow flakes were found in Wisconsin in 1988. So two snowflakes CAN be exactly alike!
- You really should not eat yellow snow….
The snow has stayed long enough to pose for me. Enjoy it today, because tomorrow it is planning on bowing its way out of here.
Winter Posing - Banker Street Road
Unfrozen Snow Droplets - Night
Out Of The Watercolored Window, When You Look by Delmore Schwartz
When from the watercolored window idly you look
Each is but and clear to see, not steep:
So does the neat print in an actual book
Marching as if to true conclusion, reap
The illimitable blue immensely overhead,
The night of the living and the day of the dead.
I drive in an auto all night long to reach
The apple which has sewed the sunlight up:
My simple self is nothing but the speech
Pleading for the overflow of that great cup,
The darkened body, the mind still as a frieze:
All else is merely means as complex as disease!
Unfrozen Snow Droplets
The snow bands are settled overhead. This lake effect snow during this mild winter seems somehow surprising falling for the past two days in intermittent squalls. I am not a lover of winter, but as I went to our ‘large’ metropolitan main street, the snow was falling in such thick sheets, I had to smile. To make a cliché of it, it looks like a giant snow globe being shaken maniacally. I am hoping that this snow stays long enough to pose for my camera.
Unfrozen Snow Droplets - Morning
The View From Up Here (with my iPhone)
The Windows by Constantine P. Cavafy
In these darkened rooms, where I spend
oppressive days, I pace to and fro
to find the windows. — When a window
opens, it will be a consolation. —
But the windows cannot be found, or I cannot
find them. And maybe it is best that I do not find them.
Maybe the light will be a new tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will reveal.
It is late.
It is dark.
It is cold.
It is snowing, once again.
I am tired of winter and her gray skies.
I am tired of brown grass lying flat.
I heard a cardinal singing his ‘come hither’ song the other day.
I could feel warmer days in my heart.
Nature rarer uses Yellow by Emily Dickinson
Nature rarer uses Yellow
Than another Hue.
Saves she all of that for Sunsets
Prodigal of Blue
Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly
Like a Lover’s Words.
“What are ya? Yellah?”
“Ya, yellah-bellied sap sucker!”
They call me Mellow Yellow. Quite right.”
“Everything that is yellow is not gold.”
“Don’t eat yellow snow.”
“Silence is not always golden; sometimes it is yellow.”
“If it’s yellow let it mellow…if it’s brown flush it down!!”
If you are like me, yellow conjures feelings of warmth, of sunshine and of happiness. Yellow is the dress I wore in 5th grade; pale yellow with chiffon accordion-pleated sleeves and every girl I knew wanted that dress. Yellow is the tree in my mother’s yard that in the fall makes everything glow under the gray skies. Yellow is the color of permanence and commitment in a band around my finger. Yellow is tart and crisp in an apple pie and in a lemon meringue pie. Yellow is the scent of a narcissus in the spring air.
Yellow is unappreciated, I think – it isn’t as flashy and bold as red, orange and purple, as calming as blue and green and it has the reputation of being cowardly. But maybe we are all confusing yellow’s sensitivity with fear; yellow is unassuming and doesn’t mind letting the other colors hog the spotlight. It will be right there, tucked away and at the ready, when we need a bit of warmth.
“There is no blue without yellow and without orange.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh
It Wasn't Night #1
February: Thinking of Flowers by Jane Kenyon
Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.Nothing but white–the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.
A single green sprouting thing
would restore me. . . .
Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.
I have typed in line after line tonight and deleted line after line. I just have nothing to say. The sky may as well be falling, because that is unheard of. But, with nothing to say tonight, I am going to say have a wonderful Saturday and stop right here.
It Wasn't Night # 3
- It Wasn’t Night #2
It Has Teeth
Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind by William Shakespeare
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
I am going have to think about how jolly I actually am tonight… Jolly. If I were on Jolly Road in Lansing, MI, I would be right smack dab in the middle of jolly, but I am just off Liberty Road and a bit down from Sunnyfield. What does that make me? Cold. What do I expect though? What I do expect and dread are the constant questions, “Cold enough for ya?” (No, I could stand a few degrees colder and pray, give me a windchill of -15F), “Didja order all this snow?” (Yes, I did. And I have a secret and diabolical plan to gain world domination with my weather machine), “When you gonna thaw us out?” (As soon as I accomplish aforementioned world domination, of course), “If you hate the cold so much, why don’t you move down South?” (I’ll get right on that tomorrow, as soon as my throne is constructed in the small duchy that has been languishing without my fabulousness and I get that relocation package for my family and my mom), and “Take it back where it came from, willya?” (As soon as I get my anti-gravitation machine up and running, I’ll send the snow right back up to those clouds!). Ah, the joy of seasonal cliché….