Oh, no, a big storm! What a mess!
I have to shovel piles of heavy white stuff in order to get out of the house. I've got places I need to be. Important things to do!
My back hurts. The cold wet seeps into my gloves, and my toes are freezing. Each shovelful seems heavier than the last. I’m hacking through a thick crust of ice, heaving dense mounds of icy snow.
Oh, then there's shoveling the snowpack off my roof, before the roof collapses . . . .
Some days, the words are heavy and cold. It's endless drudgery.
Some days it REALLY stinks.
Just after I’ve cleared the front walk, there comes the dreaded “SWOOSH,” and a roof-load of heavy snow lands, in a dense heap, right on top of my path. Hooh boy.
Some days, everything I've written for hours is fit for nothing but the trash bin. Cut, hack, start over.
But . . . look, isn't that beautiful?
Some days, the sun glints off a fresh sugar coating. My trees snuggle under their fluffy blanket.
I hurry to don my snow gear, get out there, feel the fresh, crisp air on my cheeks.
I want to make tracks!
I want to make tracks!
I live for those days when the writing flows, the ideas come easily, and the joy of the process takes over. The path is clear!
By Daniel Case (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
There's special magic in each snowflake.
Remember the excitement of a snow day, when school was cancelled? The compulsion to dive into a snowdrift, grab some friends, and make snow angels and snowmen?
Some days the only thing to do is let go of work-work-work (snow=need to shovel) and capture the old snow-day spirit (snow=YAY!).
I'll cancel those appointments -- so sorry, snowed in! -- and settle in for a day of writing by the woodstove . . . after we play in the snow.
Sometimes, there's nothing to do but to dive right in . . .
. . . and feel the bite of snow on the tongue, and revel in the joys, discoveries, and fresh perspective, of a snowy day.
Ah snow! The magic and the hard work. I wish there were more snow days for adults! Just read BLIZZARD by John Rocco--also a celebration of the fascination of snow.ReplyDelete
Great analogy! Were any of the photos of snow at your place?ReplyDelete
Yes! They were ALL of snow at our house -- not all this winter though (and except for the one of the shoveled sidewalk that had the wiki credit). We've already had a foot and a half this month . . . so SNOW has been on my mind lately. No shortage of inspiration!
Love your combination of snow and writing, Christy. As you say, it's so important to dive right in! (That photo of your dog in his long johns is a hoot.) :)ReplyDelete
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Thanks, Pat! Luckily Cheddar is not aware that I have posted that photo, and so cannot be too embarrassed about it.Delete
You and Cheddar always make an excellent team, Christi. The analogy of snow + writing = creative stories is amazing. Just like writing, snow can be so much work. There is beauty that can be enjoyed in a winter wonderland and there is beauty in the written word. ~SuzyReplyDelete
Thanks, Suzy -- well said (as always!).Delete
Great Post. Just came back in from splitting wood.... we didn't get all that snow, but when we do, I'm prepared: wine in cellar, chocolate stash, notebooks and pencils (because you can only run the generator so long until the noise drives you bonkers!) - and shovel next to door. Thanks for sharing photos.ReplyDelete
Yah, we don't have a generator . . . lack of electricity helps us to appreciate what we usually do have. There's a PB in there somewhere, I know!ReplyDelete
Re-readi this lovely post because it has the feel of poetry. And it's so wonderful to visit your snowy world & remember my own kiddo years snowy fun. As a writer, I like the clever way you've connected snow sensitivity & snow ick to the delites & discouragements of our craft. Finally these are great images from your very own world - appreciations for the visit.