Tag Archives: snow

Snow, rocks, and stories.

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I’m still in Colorado, a little longer than planned, because of a change in my airline ticket; I decided to rebook with a different airline for my return trip, to reduce the risk of being affected by the recent spate of flight cancellations and chaos at airports. My new reservation is for a later date.

The family here is happy to have me a couple more days, and I’m quite content to be pampered by the family generally, to have extended cuddling, reading and game time, and two outings I’d otherwise have missed. Plus, we watched the TinTin movie together tonight. Laddie and I sat together scrunched into a recliner, with the kitten Clyde occasionally jumping on the back and trying to get us to play.

It was an action packed film, of the sword fighting, metal crashing and body-flinging sort, and little Clara worried at times for the safety of Snowy and TinTin especially, but she was too brave to want to leave and go to bed.

The three boys are very fond of their collection of TinTin books, and enjoyed seeing favorite characters and story elements recombined in the movie. Last week, shortly after Kate arrived here, I found her animatedly reading the Spanish version of this rare tale of Tin Tin en el Congo to Raj, found on the shelf here. I don’t think I’ve ever read an entire story of TinTin from beginning to end, but all my children became fond of them over the years, and we have become a multigenerational TinTin fan club.

Yesterday I went with Soldier and the boys on one of their favorite short hikes, to the Siamese Twins rocks up the mountains from Colorado Springs. The boys have favorite places to scramble there, and I found plants my Seek app was able to identify: Colorado Pinon, Utah Juniper, and Rocky Mountain Juniper.

Rocky Mountain Juniper

Soldier pointed out to me that you can see Pikes Peak through the gap between the Twins.

We woke this morning to a new, thick blanket of snow, much more than had fallen last week. I actually helped Joy and Liam to shovel the driveway clear, and then Soldier and I took a nice walk up the hill where the trees are tall and thick.

In the afternoon Joy and I took the boys to the neighborhood hill that is most famous for good sledding. Brodie and I made a snowman, and all the boys hiked up and sledded down the several runs for a couple of hours. It was fun to watch them from a place under pines where scattered slushy drops blew down from the trees on to my head. When the sun went down along with the temperature, we went home and ate popcorn.

Every day we spend hours reading aloud, and the boys all read to themselves, too. When Brodie unwrapped Old Yeller on Christmas morning he started in right away and hasn’t stopped. Liam received several volumes in the Redwall series which he is devouring.

This anthology of Christmas stories from Plough, Home for Christmas, has blessed us immensely. Last night while others were cooking dinner, I read “The Christmas Lie,” and could barely finish for choking up. Joy read “The Empty Cup” aloud at the breakfast table this morning; it is a story about a particular “Rachel weeping for her children” at the time of Christ; the Rachel in the story did find comfort. I have also read to the children “The Guest” and “The Chess Player,” both of which are stories of hearts changed by divine Love, so that they can enter into “the Spirit of Christmas.”

In the collection are selections from Henry Van Dyke, Elizabeth Goudge, Madeleine L’Engle, and Pearl S. Buck, in addition to many writers I was not familiar with before. I haven’t read half of them yet, but every one has pleased.

Likely this is my last post from Colorado, this year. By the time I get back to this site, it will be 2023. Dear Readers and Friends: Happy New Year!

In Colorado, the stars above my bed.

The most wintry Christmastime.

Christmas, crafts, family, weather, , , ,

Last night, before the snow and piercing wind arrived, and after the children had gone to bed, the two men decided to take a walk, with the thermometer showing 3 degrees. They bundled up to the max, and set out with beers in hand, just for the fun of it. I turned in before they got back, but this morning they said it had been a fine outing.

I’ve arrived in Colorado at the home of my son “Soldier” and his family. Kate and her family are also here, which adds up to six grandchildren, four parents and one grandma. We knew it was going to get very cold, especially today, so we went on our outings the days before.

First a trip to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, where before we took in a planetarium show, we looked at statues of historic airplanes, and one uncle set the older boys to racing.

In the evening yesterday we all went caroling in the neighborhood. The thermometer was dropping fast toward zero, so we started out at dusk and sang at several houses in the neighborhood, where at least two people came out and stood to listen to us, in spite of the frosty air. Joy had baked sugar cookies, springerle and gingerbread men, and we had an all-family session decorating the sugar cookies, which she added to boxes for certain neighbors.

Kate’s and Soldier’s families haven’t ever lived close enough to each other for the cousins to know each other. The four-, five- and six-year-olds have especially enjoyed each other. All the kids received matching pajamas at their first bedtime together, which provided a lot of fun. They were all happy!

This morning when I woke it was -16. I understand that the middle regions of the nation generally are experiencing similarly extreme weather; many of you have your own stories to tell. In the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains where we are, it’s fairly dry at 7,300 ft elevation, but more snow did fall and added to what was lingering.

It’s really fun to participate in all the lively activities that I didn’t have to plan or prepare for, and even just to watch the other groupings playing chess, making decorations, building with magnatiles, assembling a jigsaw puzzle or practicing their drawing skills together. Of course we have been doing a lot of reading aloud, and all the children watched “The Snowman” video with Grandma.

Decades ago I helped my children to do a “baby-Jesus-in-walnut-shell” craft, and this  week Joy had all the ingredients for a new and improved version, which all the children enjoyed immensely.

Soldier baked a new kind of cookie for Christmas this year, a flourless meringue with figs, orange zest and almond paste, which are fantastic. I’m planning to bake them myself and I will share the recipe.

Many more fun and Christmasy things are planned in the next few days, which I hope to tell about here, but I wanted to put up this post on the coldest day I’ve ever known.

Snow and pastels.

family, travel, winter, ,

As I was making my last sweep through the house to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, my attention was caught by movement outside the kitchen windows, and I delayed my departure five minutes because of birds: doves, finches, a dozen juncos, a titmouse, a chickadee, a pair of Nutall’s woodpeckers — many hanging off the suet feeders to fortify them against the freezing weather coming through.

And this guy, whom I stared at for as long as he perched there, not recognizing him, as he was the biggest, fattest robin I have ever seen.

Then, I loaded myself in the car and off I drove, north to daughter “Pippin’s.’ The first hours were through winter-greened and gentled landscapes.

But now I am in the mountain forest.

I forgot to pack my laptop, so this post may come out a bit strange. When I arrived Pippin was just putting bread dough to rise next to the woodstove, and cats Fred and Duncan were not feeling the winter at all.

Scout helped me unload my car, and we admired icicles together.

This morning I woke in a cozy room with this view out my window:

Dear Readers who have kept me company here during the past year, or who only recently stopped by, I hope that in 2022 you also find comfort and peace. My advice: Try not to stand under large melting icicles.

Happy New Year!

Some poems are heavy and longing.

poetry, travel, , , , ,
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Same week, some years ago…

This morning I had a date to iron altar cloths at church. If it hadn’t been for that, I think I might have read poems all day. Bright and early I found myself listening hungrily to The Daily Poem podcast, which I sometimes ignore for weeks at a time. Today, by contrast, its offerings seemed like my necessary food, cultivating hope and peace in my heart the way bodily exercise generates endorphins for the brain and psyche.

Not all poems are tasty, but even the bitter ones supply certain kinds of trace elements, hints and explorations of the worlds that lie underneath the clamoring and crowded surfaces where we walk every day. I like very much the engagement with the poets themselves, people who often do appreciate the mystery of things, but I usually avoid long poems. These very short poem podcasts help me to focus and enjoy works I might not normally read, even some longer poems; because it’s all auditory, and I can’t see how long of a poem or portion will be read, and be put off by it.

Today one of the podcast hosts, Heidi White, talked about the poem “Velvet Shoes,” by Elinor Wylie. She told us about her own longing, two days after Christmas, for peace and quiet, after the busyness of the holiday, and how this poem conveys the heaviness of the snow, and how that heaviness creates silence and a kind of weighty peace, “…the feeling you get going into the nave of a great cathedral.”

VELVET SHOES

Let us walk in the white snow
    In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
    At a tranquil pace,
    Under veils of white lace.

I shall go shod in silk,
    And you in wool,
White as white cow’s milk,
    More beautiful
    Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still town
    In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
    Upon silver fleece,
    Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:
    Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
    On white silence below.
    We shall walk in the snow.

-Elinor Wylie, 1885-1928

The longing expressed in the few stanzas is impressive. We do start to wonder if the narrator will break out of the future tense and make it the present. Personally, I think that if she were truly hopeful of walking in the whiteness, she would do the activity first, and then write about it. Unless it is a sort of love letter, to someone not present at the moment. It seems to be as much about longing — and maybe purity? — as it is about snow.

Winter at Pippin’s place.
The Daily Poem hosts talked to me about several other poems as I was getting dressed, by W.H. Auden, Edward Thomas, George Santayana and Mary Oliver. Of course, many of the recent offerings have been autumnal or Advent-themed poems, but I enjoyed them all. I may save some to post here in the appropriate season next year.
 

“Velvet Shoes” may have especially impressed me because I am anticipating walking in the snow myself this week, if my plans work out to visit Pippin. And here I was, just yesterday, going on about fire and warmth….

I always think I do not want to visit snowy and cold places, but whenever I do, it’s fun. Did you notice that in spite of the narrator’s silk and lace garments, there is no mention of the cold? That might mean that it is just the poem for me!