i guess i'll have to chalk it up to being born in the middle of a february blizzard because i do love a good, bitter cold snow day. not being able to go anywhere for days, hot chocolate, a worn blanket, warm rice custard, and a house filled with cousins and friends. yesterday a friend posted this photo that she had taken on her drive home. it made me long to be back home on the farm. i then heard the following poem read by garrison keillor on "writer's almanac".
to me, this is february!
by Marge Piercy
Three feet of snow in twenty-four hours
on top of seven inches. Not really
credible here. On the fourth day
we found the car under a six
foot drift and dug it out.
At first we could not open doors.
The post office shut for two days.
Our road had vanished into a field.
We felt the sky had finally
fallen and drowned us.
Six weeks: now patches of ground
emerge from white fortresses.
How beautiful is the dirt
I took for granted. Extraordinary
the wild green of grass islands.
Having the world snatched
from us makes us grateful even
for fence posts, for wheelbarrow
rising, for the stalwart spears
of daffodil uncovered.
Everything revealed is magical,
splendid in its ordinary shining.
The sun gives birth to rosebushes,
the myrtle, a snow shovel fallen,
overcome on the field of battle.
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