In the midst of a long winter it’s very tempting to casually abandon our Beekman 1802 Creed to live each season to its fullest. But without the pale pallete of winter, we could not, would not, should not lust for the colors of Spring.
I decided to look for a few lines of poetry to reaffirm that there’s beauty and inspiration to be found even when blinded by the white.
Dust of Snow by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Frost by Valerie Bloom
Overnight, a giant spilt icing sugar on the ground,
He spilt it in the hedgerows, and the trees without a sound,
He made a wedding-cake of the haystack in the field,
He dredged the countryside and the grass was all concealed,
He sprinkled sugar on the roofs, in patches not too neat,
And in the morning when we woke, the world around was sweet.
Spring Mischief by Michael Whaling
Underground splashing, a steady hollow gurgle under glassy bubble ice and this winter’s snow
Uneven at first, and then the steady rhythm of the search for downhill water always takes the easy way
Especially when no one is watching
A wet glimpse as it flashes in the sunlight, winding under the rocks and edge of a roadside ditch or cut in the woods near you
Times may vary depending on lots of things
Feel free to share your favorite winter poem. Help us make it through the next month!
16 Comments
beautiful!
Beautiful images and poems.It reminds me not only of the season but of the winter time of our lives. Sometimes it feels like society only sees the beauty of youth and spring and yet there is tremendous beauty in aging as well.
Hi, Dr. Brent. What beautiful photos and poems.
This is one of my new favorite March poems:
March Wind by Dorothy Louise Thomas
Tonight the wind is a force to fear,
A wild thing, running free,
A giant, unfettered, who walks abroad
On some grim deviltry.
The stoutest walls will quake tonight,
The tightest shutters swing;
Crevice and cranny will echo the sound
Of his fitful blustering.
Happy the homes where on the hearth
The flames rise, quick and clear,
To meet the challenge, chimney-borne,
To still the heart’s vague fear.
All that we cherish most on earth
Is symbolized by that rich glow,
Home, and the sheltering arms of love,
The dearest dreams we know.
The wind may hurl his burly strength
Against the door, the pane.
Where home is warm, and the hearthfire bright,
He beats, he shouts, in vain.
Hi, Elaine
I love it. Thanks for sharing
Hi, Cynthia
I couldn’t agree more
Not exactly a poem, but writings from Hal Borland “Sundial of the Seasons” ….
“And you feel the indefinable pulse of March, a slowly rising beat that touches the hillside and the woodland and stirs at the root of things. It is like feeling your own pulse again, your own growing strength; and you know that March, no matter what its day-to-day temperament, is a good time to know again, a good time to be alive.”
Just how I felt the other day when the red-winged blackbird announced his presence in a tree above me…..
Here is one of my favorite poems, Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “The Buck in the Snow.” I find it a very quiet poem and strangely comforting.
“White sky, over the hemlocks bowed with snow,
Saw you not at the beginning of the evening the antlered buck and his doe
Standing in the apple-orchard? I saw them. I saw them suddenly go,
Tails up, with long leaps lovely and slow,
Over the stone-wall into the wood of hemlocks bowed with snow.
Now lies he here, his wild blood scalding the snow.
How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to
his antlers
The buck in the snow.
How strange a thing,-a mile away by now, it may be,
Under the heavy hemlocks that as the moments pass
Shift their loads a little, letting fall a feather of snow–
Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.
Beautiful, John
Wow, Just saw you on Martha. You two are a hoot and I will watch your new program. Now, off to make sticky buns, oh joy! Thanks for being so great <3
Hi, Lori
Why does the term “sticky buns” sound so lewd?
I enjoyed seeing you and Josh on Martha. Have really missed reading your weekly blogs but I can see that you both have been really busy. Will be definitely watching the new program. Best Of Luck – I am sure it will be a great success!
Hi, Roxanne
I promise to get back to it really soon. So much to say!
That frost looks like mini Holiday trees! Another great post!
Just the thing to see on a hot humid Chicago day! Been watching the show and have enjoyed the progress you and Josh are making in Life and on the farm…
Should I go over to Josh’s blog and leave a comment just to be fair??
nah, that’s ok
Beautiful pics…I’ve been to Cherry Valley and vacinity a few times but never in Winter…not yet, anyway.Autumn has always been my fav but these images are wonderful. I just finished Josh’s book, TBP, and how nice it would have been to have read it, curled up in front of a crackling fire with the snow on the windowsill. luv it!! Carla
My favorite winter poem is one that I used to read to my children before bed time. I don’t know the author but if anyone recognizes it feel free to take credit for it.
“Snow makes whiteness where it falls,
The bushes look like popcorn balls,
The places where i always play
look like somewhere else today.”