As time pushes us closer and closer to Valentine's Day this year, I am reminded of the absolutely ridiculous snowstorm that we had on last year's V-day, which looked a little something like this:
Of course, last year's winter was quite unlike this one, in that we didn't have any substantial snow cover until that holiday, whereas this year we've been hit by one storm after another...after another. As I type, Poultney is being ravaged by yet another storm-- one that consists primarily of freezing rain. Despite my grumblings over the fact that we haven't seen sun for more than one day straight in the last THREE WEEKS (or so it seems), there's no denying that today's storm has had an amazing effect on the landscape.
Here are some closer shots.
I just love how everything looks so fragile. It's like living in a world made of glass.
Though storms like this can be a bit on the nasty side, I kind of enjoy the quiet, comfortable solitude that they bring with them. These kinds of storms practically ask you to wrap yourself up in a blanket, make yourself some tea, and read a delightful book. I myself am tempted to discard my afternoon's responsibilities and snuggle up with some Sylvia Plath... we'll just have to see, now won't we. Either way, I'm definitely rocking the pj pants and a blanket my grandma crocheted back in the day. MMmmm warmth.
In the one class that I had today, my teacher had us write a creative piece. The reading due for the class detailed different creative writing strategies to use on students (it's an education course). Ironically, though she sometimes uses the strategies we read about for class on us (so we can see it from a student and an educator's perspective), she wasn't planning on doing this today until she saw the way the landscape looked out of the classroom window. The room's in the bottom of the library and the windows are gigantic, so you can see the barn and the different fields that stretch back to the forest.
So I wrote a poem. And it didn't come out half-bad, considering it was a groggy, stormy Wednesday morning and I was told to write.
Here it is:
Winter wonderland stretching towards
desperate forested mountains,
ice rain, like finger tips,
drumming, drumming the landscape,
while the trees, sighing, stand bold and stark
determined to persevere,
their limbs reaching toward an ashen sky
in hopes to embrace a more welcoming world
tomorrow
the cars, lined up like ducks, in
the otherwise lonely parking lot
hesitantly placed tracks in the snow leading away
from tired, lower-middle-class employees,
the trip is long on mournings like these,
but so seems time when hunger aches.
We are all urged on by attachment,
responsibility, restrictions,
convictions of the beauty of the American dream...
This IS the American dream
this winter wonderland impossibly stretching away into
chaos
wilderness
as we sit, safe, secure in the
boxes we've created to protect
our fragile minds
from the pelting ice that rages on in life...
Yes, this is another wretched day in paradise.
Haha. The last line is a paraphrase from a story one of my English teachers told me. Evidently, he lived in Hawaii for a while teaching at a university there. Since it's HAWAII and it's always BEAUTIFUL and SUNNY, everyone's windows are permanently open to catch the breeze, and sometimes, pieces of conversation from oblivious neighbors. It was a morning much like every other morning, in that the weather was absolutely perfect, when I guess one such oblivious neighbor woke up, stretched, and apathetically proclaimed: Yep, just another ****** day in paradise.
And on that note, I leave you. Hope you're all smiling.