Our Second Snowstorm, Fall-Winter 2020

Just before Thanksgiving, we had our second snowstorm of the season.  Of course, in the high country, there has been more than one storm, but here in the city, we’ve had only two, so far.  I’d heard on my public radio station that we were in for some snow – how much I didn’t know.  When I went to bed (I usually hit the hay about midnight, or so), I looked into my back yard and could tell that there was only brown/green grass – no snow.

Rising at my usual time, the yard was shining with very white snow.  My morning habit is to make my daily oatmeal (microwaveable), open the living/dining room curtains, and check the front porch to see that no package deliver person left anything for me to take into the house.  These people work really late and start very early, and I sometimes find a package that had been delivered either very late, last night, or very early, today.

This particular morning I had no package, but I was able to guess the depth of the snow on the gazing balls as six inches or more.  The gazing ball garden is one of my favorite decorations in my yard.  It is by the steps that lead to the front door.  I like the garden when the balls are surrounded by pansies for the fall and winter; Bryan planted the pansies earlier in the fall.  My favorite vision of the garden, though, is when the snow sits atop the colored balls, before the sun warms the balls allowing the snow to slide to the ground.  What we say in my state is, “If you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes, and it will change.”  Generally, the snow does not stay for long, except in my front yard on the north side of my house, where it will usually stay on the grass until spring.  A cleared driveway and sidewalks, allow the snow to be gone from them in a day or so.

My eldest granddaughter RNW just turned eighteen, and, in addition to being a senior in high school, a harpist*, and member of two choral groups, she is also a poet.  Being able to include one of her poems with this post is special, because she rarely is comfortable sharing her poetry with non-family members.  This is a very special treat for me; thanks for this, RNW.

The First Snow
I went down out of town to see the first snow,
The beauty of which I was yet to know,
Filled with the sorrow of regret and woe.

The wind whipped around me, chilling the air.
Freezing conditions, but I didn’t really care.
The pink of my cheek mocked the red of my hair.

A sudden flash of movement caught my eye;
The first bright, white snowflake coming down from the sky.
Spinning and winning the touchdown from high.

It sat very quietly on the dead brown ground,
Gave bold testament to beauty without making a sound.
Such elegant grace that I wished I had found.

A sharp contrast it had to dark surroundings, too.
As if to please the deep freeze with its much brighter hue.
It had no remorse; no bitterness or rue.

When it rains, it pours; the same goes for the snow.
A turbulent flurry of white flakes did follow.
They plummeted eagerly to the hard earth below.

Then big, fat, lazy ones fell nice and slow,
Coming and summing in an endless flow.
I caught one on my tongue; then I let it go.

The breathtaking sight left nothing to say.
And in the frigid air of a white wintry day,
All of grumbles of my troubles simply melted away.

Granddaughter RNW
January 12, 2018

Be Safe and Well.

The Cranky Crone

If you have thoughtful feedback or questions, please let me know with a comment below.

*Just a note:  I never know whether to say ‘harper’ or ‘harpist.’  There are sometimes divided opinions on the correct term for a person who plays the harp. While there is no absolutely definitive answer, it is generally regarded that a ‘harper’ is someone who plays mainly non-classical music; a ‘harpist’ is someone who plays mainly classical music.  And, I don’t know who decided that.

c