Snowed-in--it takes just a dusting

Yesterday began with that dusting. Then, snow mist and freezing fog.

The ride home from work was surreal, with the wind swirling clouds of that snow mist in the headlights. It looked like the smokey wraithes that rise off of dry ice. The roads were solid ice. The bus commute was two and a half hours--probably one of the shortest rides in the region--and I missed the Billy Collins reading.

The winds continued to drift the snow, so a few inches was sculpted into peaks and swoops, like a meringue.

This morning, I'll be staying put, working from home, with a cat on my legs.

I'm loving this crazy weather we're having

Our Monday morning surprise

Late afternoon, and we still have a little snow left.

I love the way the snow cloaks the thin branches of the birch across the alley.

A little more winter wonderland...

and a Happy Holiday, or a Happy Thursday, to everyone.

Harvesting sage for the dinner

It's under here somewhere...

Aha!

As seen on skis

In the alley

Usually a busy bus stop

Other people are out on skis

No worries

Does anyone remember

asking last Wednesday, "Where's the snow?"

It's another working-from-home day for me.

I haven't been writing any poetry or even revising. The snow is my poetry. If I lived in New England, I might never write a word. I would just sit by the window all day and watch.

Okay, maybe for a week, a fortnight even. Then it might become ordinary. That's hard for me to imagine, although it's getting a little easier.

And thanks to the efficacy of email, I have received rejections.

My dream morning

This morning, inspired by Martha (thanks, Martha!) and my husband's desire for breakfast sausages, I strapped on my skis and went to the store.

The snow had a ice crust on top, but in the tire tracks, it was pretty smooth (considering it's been five years since I dug my skis out of the shed).

Now it's back to the store to stock up for the big family dinner tomorrow.

Ciao!

Saturday scenes

Ice patterns on the windshield. I was waiting in the car for a ride downtown to do some shopping. On our way, we saw a bus, and I switched over to mass transit. It was very mass.

It's rare that you can look out and see this much snow.

On the way home, my bus couldn't make it up the hill, so I walked the icy sidewalks with my fragile packages, and made it home just as the next snow began to fall.

Yesterday's weather

It's been a busy week, what with waiting for snow and watching the snow and working from home and bouncing around for shopping and cocktails. All very festive.

Not a lot of writing—poems or cards. Although I'd like to. In the flurry of the season, I long to curl up and create—something, anything (not that I can; I just want to). But I'm trying to go with the flow and enjoy the season and the snow.

How about you? How do you balance writing and revelry, or do you save your creative energy for the new year?

A little white lightness

I love the way snow changes the landscape, but I also love the brightness it brings.

I can't drive in it, but I don't have a car this weekend anyway.

You do not need to adjust your screen

April 19th, on Seattle's Capitol Hill

Earlier, in a brief weather lull (with sunglasses!), I hurried over to Open Books and brought home an armload of poetry. My future is looking like Robert Hass, Osip Mandelstam, Paal-Helge Haugen, and more Tracie K. Smith.

Meanwhile, I'm going through Furious Lullaby again, and it has inspired me in a completely new direction on my main manuscript project. I am so excited that I wrote drafts, very rough drafts, of 12 poems, with ideas for several more. And that's the great thing (I think) about inspiration: No matter how much I aspire to write like someone else, it will always be different, will arrive, sooner or later, in my voice.

Who inspires you to write?

Winter's poem this morning

Walking with daughter

A lovely kind of Monday

Still no sign of snow

I wanted a little line of poetry, and I wanted it to be about snow. I looked high. I looked low. I looked at the Poetry Foundation website and at bartleby.com, and then I realized that I could use one of my Decemer haikus. I could even write just the one that would say what I wanted to say.

Isn't that the point?

After a little work, I came up with:

Waiting for the snow
To change December landscapes
The world looking new

Then today, I sent it to Michael Dylan Welch, who knows much more about haiku than I do or ever will. He had a suggestion, so my latest version is:

Waiting for the snow
To change rain-blackened branches
The world looking new

Is it better? I don't know. Does it say what I need it to say? I'm not sure. I think the first version says what I want it to say. But Michael's comment opens up the possibility for change, and I can keep exploring it.

Three lines, Seventeen syllables or so. And still a wealth of possibility.

Now, time to check the weather forecast.

Yes...Really...Here...Now

The season's first snow.

Here, the first snow might be the only snow, so we enjoy it while we can.