The Thing About Snow

I am not a snow bunny.  Never have been.  I don’t ski – the mere thought of choosing to go downhill on two highly polished slats of fiberglass prompts paroxysms of vertigo.  I had beautiful white ice skates when I was a kid – with blue and white pom-poms.  They far exceeded in loveliness the grace with which I used them.  I’m clumsy on dry pavement, so you can imagine my impromptu choreography when the weather is inclement.  I’m a walking slapstick skit.

But I love the first serious snow of the season.  I love how the snow forces commitment.  It commits itself to the ground with purpose, hugging the ground as if it will never let it go.  It demands that the world be quiet, muting everything but this delicious silence that you can’t help but notice.  It reduces the myriad of alternatives and choices that we make throughout the day.  Somehow the highest imperative becomes to snuggle in to the moment and let it have its way.  Snow gives you permission.  To remain mesmerized while looking out the window and forget about how much time has elapsed, to hide under the blanket with a good book, to drink hot chocolate (with three marshmallows).  Snow – silently, persistently commits you to a relationship with coziness, arguably a state that we don’t find enough excuses to enjoy.

The first snow.  It’s something I can commit to.

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A Moment Of Inanity

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This is a quetzal

I think it’s quite special

With colors so spectacular

There is no apt vernacular

 

So would you ask a quetzal

“Polly, do you want a pretzel?”

Or would you offer this cool avian

Something healthy vegetarian?

 

In it’s native Guatemala

Perhaps you’d start to holler

“No food for you as you well know

If no shoes, no shirt,  no dinero”

 

At 3:15, one can’t expect a post far more germane

More witty, cogent, thoughtful not to mention more urbane

Perhaps it’s best I bid the quetzal ‘adios’ for now

And leave you with a sleepy smile, returning to my bough.

The Perfect October Song

Arguably not the most original of posts this morning, though the morning is clearly exceptional.  It’s our first emphatically chilly morning, the smell of oak trees pervade the air,  Archie is trying in vain to catch every falling leaf only to be confused by their trajectory and the sheer volume of movement around him (the purpose of being outdoors for his morning ‘business’ is completely forgotten).  Teddy is stopping to smell the mums and I am inspired by the sounds and sights of the morning.  It’s a wonderful day to take a slow walk into life..