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From the Soddy Journal, Monday, February 25, 1867
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From the Soddy Journal, Monday, February 25, 1867 |
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Sunshine
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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From the Soddy Journal – Monday February 25, 1867 The children were abed, worn out from the day of extremes. The temperature was modestly comfortable just yesterday, and today, so cold! The wind had howled all night, and I kept thinking the snow would have started then, but it waited for the light of day. Then, he came up to me, and taking the dishtowel from my hands, said, “Go write about the snow.” For all the day, it had stayed with me, how the sound of the wind had been blanketed by the white; so deafening last night, then the silent blizzard of this morning. There were still nose-prints from the smaller children on the one window they had gathered at, to watch the swirling storm transform yesterdays winter-dull to a winter wonderland. But to talk a bit of snow. However to make one understand the difference of a blizzard, from what we knew back east of a soft, quiet, gentle snowfall. We did not grow to know the fear of loss from a normal forty-foot walk from house to barn during a blizzard. How easy to lose direction when the wind takes your voice and throws it away. Before winter, we tie a line from the house to the barn. The animals cannot fend for themselves, so it is not as simple as holing up and taking care of one’s self. However, we would be lost without the lead line from house to barn. The snow will trick you, and flounder you. It will look inviting and the children will want to play, but there is treachery in the beauty, and it will beguile you. A white blizzard will draw you out and draw you in. The wind will lie, lurking, waiting for you to step out into this mysterious beauty, and with razor blade sharpness, will tear the air from your lungs. A large snow, meaning large flakes, will add dimension and bring needed moisture. A small snow will mesmerize you and lose you, for the flakes are minute and many and dizzying to the mind. Those are the worst snows, for in its’ majesty, it becomes mightier in its danger – it gives less and takes more. It does not provide the moisture the land needs, and can change from snow to sleet and back in an instant, freezing the hide and hair of animal and man alike. Nevertheless, he wanted me to write of this snow, and how to put it to word? This snow brought with it a quiet lull, a silence encompassing the soul – I would almost rather hear the howling of the wind, then the silence of the white. For not a bird sang, nor a coyote howled, nor a chicken clucked. Perhaps it was because yesterday was warm and promised spring, and this winter blizzard was like the drawing of a shroud over hope. Perhaps that was it then, death, come white. For surely, someone did not watch the signs, and some one, or some thing, perished. I would write of the snow, but he beckons me to come. To him. For warmth. For promises to be fulfilled. There is a reason for the snow. If nothing more, to prove to us, we are survivors. |
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| © Copyright 2002 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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amusemi Senior Member
since 2001-12-08
Posts 1262A State of Disarray |
You depict this so very well. I felt the chill to my bones. Lovely!!!  |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Nevertheless, he wanted me to write of this snow, and how to put it to word? This snow brought with it a quiet lull, a silence encompassing the soul ===================================== OH BUT YOU DID ....write of the snow...till we felt the ache of cold in our bones... and then? you melted us and the snow with that closing paragraph. this is fantasticly descriptive writing...outstanding in detail and the way you immersed the reader in the setting of time and in the cold. keep em coming soddy poetess  |
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Mysteria 
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Nice writing on this one Karilea, and what better to describe the snow than this... "This snow brought with it a quiet lull, a silence encompassing the soul – I would almost rather hear the howling of the wind, then the silence of the white." |
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