Old Houses in Snow

The home that love built (for little Natalie).

We're getting to the point where winter palls on us, especially those drearily dark commuter mornings into the city, rife with delays and power outages; that special time of year when the dirty pile of sidewalk snow on the corner becomes our greatest most hated enemy, the most dreaded, iciest foe to our winter-weary minds: "So ugly!! Grrr!! I almost fell" <shake fist>:o( "I hate you, dirt pile of snow, ice, and slush!!!" 
<shakes fist and slips in patch of black ice that's almost invisible> "Shoveling!!...Again!!...WTF?!", and so forth until it finally ends...again.

Spooky old houses in winter...booo!

Ads on t.v. for Disney vacations and beach trips to the Bahamas become almost every New Yorker's dream of escape. But take heart! You're not alone. February is a short month that's over quickly, and St. Patrick's Day is right around the corner. 

"It was a dark and dreary winter's day, so cold, and alone..."

That means beer (and lots of it), a great little small town parade (BTW, midget pony in the little green coat with the long blond mane needs to come back this year, and this means YOU, lady in acid-washed jeans with the 80s hairdo from New Jersey. I know you are close by, breeding little horses :( , so don't be lazy, and come back to our parade this year!!), corned beef with cabbage, and also leftover breakfasts of crispy pan-fried corned beef hash with lots of ketchup on the side, and yes, that means you, you Pearl River Mick. See you soon!

"Please, no more shoveling. I can't take it anymore! Aggghh!"

Still, it is pretty as a postcard here. Wouldn't change a thing!

Snow-Filled Days Ahead

Garage in snow.

Garage in snow, II.

Look, muthaf#ckas, let's get this straight: we have a blizzard on the way in the Northeast for the next few days, so if you aren't 1) the President of the United States of America (and he knows better than to push it, kids) or 2) the head of Médecins Sans Frontières, where the entire fate of the world at war hangs in the balance of your command (and when hasn't the world been at war with disease, starvation, and well, war?!!), then stay the f#ck home! The markets won't close without you, Wall Street assh@le. You ain't the entire market, and computers do work in your friggin' generic stucco McMansion, in yet another bland cul-de-sac. Sh*thead.

Bush in snow.

Bush in snow, II.

Bush in snow, III.

You do not control the weather, except the damage you do in excess with your pricey plastic trash that pollutes the earth. The world does not revolve around you, so, again, stay the fuc% home today! Stay off the roads, don't go out if you do not absolutely have to, and deal with being prepared ahead of time, like the rest of us decent humans do. Snow is not some g-ddamn demon sent to plague you. It's snow. It's f*cking weather. You know how this goes by now: Mother Nature always (and I mean, always) wins. What do think cold countries like Norway and Canada do? Die?! Just f&ckin' deal with it, sh*theads.

Carousel in snow.

Firehouse in snow.

I'll see you in a few days. Now, where are my candles? Ah, I already have them, because I know what to do under these conditions that I've adapted to. It's f#cking winter, and this is f#cking weather. It's called a f#cking "season". And this upcoming storm is called a blizzard. NOT a "POLAR VORTEX" super villain, not "The Plague" sent to you from G-d (you'd know it if it was that, homie), and you are not the center of all life on this planet. Enough with it, already. "Newsie airheads", that includes your dumb act and b$llshit routine, because we're totally on to you, with the phoney 20 questions and playing stupid, like "Golly Gee, this is soooo new!!". Go find a real story. It's time. It's the muthahumpin' 21st century, for chrissakes. Stay home, human! You are not needed! (with the exception of  our emergency personnel, but you already know who you are).

Poetry in Motion: Twilight

Bus ride home in twilight.

To the Reader: Twilight

Chase Twichell

Whenever I look

out at the snowy

mountains at this hour

and speak directly

into the ear of the sky,

it’s you I’m thinking of.

You’re like the spirits

the children invent

to inhabit the stuffed horse

and the doll.

I don’t know who hears me.

I don’t know who speaks 

when the horse speaks.

Sense of Snow

An empty road during a snow storm is a good thing.

We've been vacillating between frigid snow and freezing rain to warm Spring-like days that melt it all away, in a dangerous guessing game of highs and lows that Climate Change Luddites still do not acknowledge as part of the times we live in. 

Snow-covered pavilion.

After a bus ride to the city the day before our last big snowstorm, the driver and I chatted about weather, and he asked me if I liked the snow. I'm Acadian; I love snow in at least twenty different ways for over twenty different reasons, each subtle and unique, but not for traveling long distances on crowded highways, especially commuting to a job that's not worth the price of a life. 

Snow, then freezing rain.

My new friend agreed with me as I wished him safe driving before heading out the bus doors. Snow is beautiful to look at, and it can be hell to drive in, but he, like me, is well-informed about the terrain. It's a fact of life we accept by showing a healthy respect for Mother Nature. Here's some of my views over the past few weeks that's part of a visual diary about having a sense of snow. More to come.