We didn't have school on Friday, and I was so excited to venture out of town to hang with friends that I left sans winter coat (or any coat) and mittens (or gloves or anything warm). When I realized it was going to snow and perhaps ice today, I realized the foolishness of my packing. Actually I realized it last night going from restaurant to bar sans winter apparel. My trip was short but full of friends and fun. Early this afternoon I left as it started snowing in God's Country (Iowa) and arrived in the Cities as it started to snow (making my trip uneventful... except for the tears that sometimes came to my eyes as I listened to more This American Life). ANYWAY, this first snow is full of big flakes and incredible beauty. Tonight I opened the door to take photos of the snow coming down and covering the trees. Maybe I should let Mary Oliver explain:
The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles, nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found –
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles, nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found –
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.
~Mary Oliver~
excerpted from American Primitive
excerpted from American Primitive
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