The first snow of the season felt too early to me. I was still soaking up the golden autumn. I'm not ready for the cold. But, once I got out in it with the kids, I loved it. I did feel a little too old, though, to be digging for sticks in the neighbor's yard. We made 4 snowmen that H and his friend promptly kicked down. I expected Zelly to stay out for only 3 minutes, the cold wimp that she is, but she surprised me by staying out for almost 2 hours. Glorious Day. Winter might not be so bad after all. And, a parting poem, more lovely than the snow itself.
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...
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...
...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.
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, "First Snow"
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