Snow is blanketing the East Coast, burying the rulers of measuring reporters, blowing microphones and umbrellas out of people’s hands, stranding motorist on highways, passengers on buses, travelers en route.
And it is COLD.
Too many cars on streets made plows lag in coming. They are yet to transform some paths from the look of dusted by ruptured sacks of confectioners sugar … to gray mushy lines of hiding blacktop. There’s a hush outside. The world stunned by winter’s hold.
People walk gingerly–confectioners sugar it might look like, but up close underfoot this is mighty slippery stuff.
From my window, everyone is a walking story:
Here are the sturdy footers, placing one foot in front of the other in assured steps;
There come the triers, delicately placing one foot and then another, almost in a dance;
The best-spot-placers, scanning the sidewalk for less slippy spots before zigzagging their way along, concentration at the full;
The text-n-sliders, keeping half an eye on the sidewalk and the rest on the small screen;
The unprepared, stepping tentatively in not-quite-appropriate footwear and attempting to ignore physics–a body in flat shoes will sink in snow piles;
And the snow-welcomers, faces upturned to the wind against tugging-hands at their wrappings. Many grasshoppers-size with bookbags and lunch boxes, dismissed early from school, drunk on Snow-Day delight;
There are the careful-balancers, holding canes and walkers or clinging to shopping carts or someone else’s elbow, praying to not throw out backs or hips or knees or ankles, casting yearnful glances at the sure-steppers and grinners, nostalgic peeks at grasshopper magic, and a half-envious, half-knowing shake of head at the texting and unprepared, for their careless take-for-granted health.
From my window, everyone becomes walking story. Stories in the snow.
How do you write stories in the snow?
4 thoughts on “Writing in the Snow”
I love your wonderful reflection on this heavy New York snowstorm. Out my window overlooking the park, I see a lone figure glide along the park drive on cross country skis, a police cruiser with flashing lights following a dumptruck with plow on front, both disappearing into the swirling clouds of flakes, and a sideways flight of feathery snowflakes past the window, illuminated by a gently swaying streetlight. Thank you for sharing your observations, and for inspiring mine.
My pleasure, Shielagh! Right now outside my windows there are snow flakes dancing some unpredictable moves that begin in gliding around and end in sideways jitters, nose-dives and last minutes lifts back into the cycling dance… If anyone were to ride a snowflake tonight they’d get a better roller-coaster experience than in Six-Flags… 😉
Keep warm, keep musing!
You write so beautifully! You fill me with yearning for snowy winter landscapes in New York
Thank you Ruthie! It is indeed pretty in a snow storm in NY…at least until slush and black snow take some of the beauty away… but right it now it is still magnificent and silent other than the scrape of the plow and the howl of the wind and the odd squelch of a vehicle pinching its way on the icy road.