. . .and thou, beside me, shivering in the wilderness. . . Winter storm Fern (so named, according to my sister Laura, by the dramatic weather people) has struck its tiny fists into my home state of Virginia. Laura says that this sort of thing is pretty much par for January, and feels that everybody should just calm down.
My sister Mary offers a brilliant counterpoint, stating that the snow and sleet accompany temperatures that are “as cold as a witch’s elbow.” My dear niece Helen says that walking on the surface of the sleet-enhanced snow is like, she imagines, walking across a giant dish of crème brulee. Such wonderful imagery; I guess I come by my creative flair honestly.
I remember winters in my hometown of Powhatan, Virginia. As an older teenager and adult, I noticed that nobody knows what to do in a winter storm except drive faster. My son Jon suggests, tongue firmly in cheek, the following logic for this behavior: driving faster means less time on the road and therefore less time to get into an accident. Many winter-fender-bender (and worse) scenes have pinpointed the flaw in this reasoning.
Go back a little further in time, and I wasn’t worried about roads. My whole world revolved around the sledding hill in back of the house. You see, that hill was once an apple orchard, and had a lot of tiny whoop-de-doo hills, only one big tree to crash into, and an opposing hill on the other side to prevent too much momentum from building up. So we had epic neighborhood sledding parties, complete with frozen toes, hot chocolate, and sopping-wet sleepovers.
Ah, winter, equal parts inconvenience and fun, danger and delight, crystalline beauty and muddy slush. However you experience it, know that spring will be here before you know it, and look for the points of light reflecting from the snow.
For your further edification: Rubaiyat XII: A Book of Verses underneath the Bough by Omar Khayyam – Poem Analysis
I’m honored! Less romantic trying to shovel the 2-inch-thick slabs from the driveway while maintaining proper body mechanics, haha! But it’s quite a beautiful day when one ignores the wind.
I hear you. Thanks for weighing in.
Magnificent writing! IF I was still working, I would be going in to work, regardless of the pleas of the local sheriff department to just stay home, because my mice needed me. Now I am retired I have decided to decline my shift tomorrow morning at the wildlife center, because though I am helpful I am not essential, because the neighborhood roads are still icy, because I have a soft tire, and… I am retired.
Yes, you have greater discretion now. Glad you made the call to stay home.
were still working
Yup. . .you barely escaped from the Grammar Police! They were preparing to swoop in.
I was typing as fast as I could before they got me!
A close call, truly.
Ah. Yes. The sledding parties. I remember sledding down the hill. I fell off halfway down and the sled continued on to Jefferson spring. Maybe that was the night the Hancock boys tore boards from the pigpen to add to the bonfire!!
Ah. Yes. The sledding parties. I remember sledding down the hill. I fell off halfway down and the sled continued on to Jefferson spring. Maybe that was the night the Hancock boys tore boards from the pigpen to add to the bonfire!!
Were there pigs inside? Reason I ask is, knowing those boys. . .
Yes. Just two. They got loose and went sledding too🐖🐖😉
How festive!
Hi Evelyn,
I enjoy your essays very much. Especially loved your description this morning of ice crunching underfoot like the crust on a creme brûlée. I don’t know if you will remember me, but we knew each other long ago. You were a bridesmaid in my 1979 wedding to Tom Harvey. The years have brought many changes, as they do. Tom died in 1999 of leukemia, Sarah is now 46 years old and lovely. I hunkered down and went to school, finally earned my phd and now have a solo clinical practice in tiny Urbanna, Virginia. I remarried in 1992 to an extraordinary man. He died 4 months ago of metastatic prostate cancer. Weird to try and capture decades in a paragraph of a few sentences. Anyway, keep writing and count me among your readers.
With fond memories, Monica
Monica! What a wonderful blast from the past. So good to hear from you, and thank you for your support of my writing. I’ll keep writing!