A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner,
That I should have guessed
Was a blown-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
Finally, after a long winter (and it's not over yet) we had a decent weekend. Temps in the high 40's, bright and sunny, no storms on the horizon. A perfect chance to get out of the house (remember -- I work at home, so winters feel twice as long.)
Well, it's been a couple of days since the "big storm" and digging out is still happening around the Chesterville area. Around 28 inches of new snow fell here, and snow banks are dangerously high all around the roads.
It's been too cold this winter to really enjoy the great outdoors, here in Chesterville -- for me, anyway. Not that I'm a warm-blooded southerner, used to swaying palm trees and soft ocean breezes (by the way, doesn't that sound great right now?)
As many of you know who read this blog, from time to time I write about growing up on a dairy farm in the Adirondacks in the 1960s and '70s. As a kid you don't always know the struggles your parents go through when times are tough on a farm, but you know enough.
The catalogs are arriving in a flurry each day. The trek from the old farmhouse down to the corner mailbox is an adventure, bundled against the cold that bites cheeks and nose. Heavy boots, heavier coat, muffler, gloves and hat cover all against the biting cold and wind.
Well, it's been a while since I lived through this kind of a cold snap for so long of a period, certainly not since I moved to Boston with my wife in the mid-1990s. So far this winter, we've dealt with frozen pipes to the kitchen at least four times. Personally, I'd rather be battling snow.
A Time to Talk
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is time to talk.
Blade-end up and five feet tall.
