09 September 2010

the weather outside is frightful

Typically, I'm not one to skip past fall. 

It was only this morning that I felt deliciously tempted to wear a scarf, one in earthy tones.  Preferably, I'd wear this scarf while picking apples, which is actually something I've never done, but it seems so autumn-esque.

Given my level of love for other things fall {bonfires, apple cider, pumpkin spice lattes, sweaters,  what the leaves look like when the setting sun lights them, pensive rainy days, candy corn}, I'm not sure why I haven't gone apple picking.

I feel a seasonal goal coming on.  Other fall goals may be: bake a lot of things with pumpkin in them and kick through piles of leaves every chance you get.

So clearly, no, I don't want to skip past fall, but I found this poem this morning that I'd written last December.  Even though it talks about snow {and explicitly mentions Christmas}, I wanted to share it now. 

Maybe this means I'm not good at waiting because yes, of course I could just save this until actual snow time again.

But here's the deal: I love seasons.  I love how varied they are here in the Midwest, and I love that they give us all something to talk about, all the time.  A guaranteed subject to fill any idle second. 

Not that we spend all our time talking about the weather.  Some of us also spend time apple picking, apparently.

Re-reading this poem, I could see the snow outside my living room window again.  I could feel the cold blast from opening the front door, and I could hear that silence that descends during a big snow.  The silence that lets you know that everyone else is inside, too, maybe by a fire or under a blanket or making hot cocoa or just watching the snow.

Yes, it's the beginning of fall here, and no, I don't want to miss that.  But for one little moment, I'm going to think about the snow.

Snow was fallingsnow on snow"
One of my favorite Christmas songs
And I think:
   I'll never write something so simply elegant as that.
I see that I:  my eye sees the I.
And I close my eyes to the driving thoughts of comparison.

I open them to

look out at the driving snow.

Accept and marvel:  the sky is
Snow on snow

I need less I.
I need more—

Oh, wow.


  1. Earlier this summer when we were in the middle of the heat wave, all I could think about was glorious snow and cold breezes. Now, I think I'm just enjoying fall (since it's finally here). And you should absolutely go apple picking!

    I've gone every year and it's really fun and you feel quite rustic and down to earth. Of course, then you also get to go home and make some really delicious pies too (which never hurts).

    I've always wanted to go berry picking here as well, but we don't have many self-pick berry places anymore (other than my father-in-law's blackberry patch, which is guaranteed to make your hands bleed from the monster thorns those guys have!).

  2. It's so funny to me, because typically I'm not one to skip past fall, either. I think what it is for me is that I had a final blast of fun in the last week of summer, and then there was September: serious, reflective, introspective. But I wanted to be jumping into lakes and staying out too late! I just need to remember that fun doesn't end after Labor Day. And maybe that's *my* seasonal goal. :)



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