| A poem about winter, as spring takes its place: Winters Because they had the very latest deadline there procrastination steered my mother to grad school in Iowa. The cold of Indiana where she grew had not prepared her for the cruel sharp prairie winds that blasted her with frigid air. While struggling through the elements she felt all brave and strong. Years later when she landed with my dad and me In a different midwest college town, a glacier fell down on the lawn on Christmas eve. There we could see it through the months of winter. We had no magic spell to melt it, so in stepping out our legs sank to the knee. But we struggled through the elements and felt all brave and strong. In my highchair, when I saw neighbors’ cars that failed to climb our slippery hill, my chest was seized with panic and “It’s stuck, it’s stuck” I wailed. Then when at last the vehicles had passed the crest I would relax, and in our kitchen calm prevailed. Struggling with the elements made us feel all brave and strong. White winters followed us for decades more. The snows would bury sidewalks, hide the long-dead grass, leave us wondering if a tardy spring would yet expose the lawns and flowers (and dog turds) or if we must, enduring endless cold, at last to frostbite lose our nose. The struggle with the elements made us feel brave and strong. Those bright seasons left us years ago and in their place left only vexing bleak depressing endless gray. That huge lawn-glacier that my mother faced was white and bright and (probably lying) folks would say that they enjoyed the wintertime whose hardships they embraced. While struggling through the elements we felt all brave and strong. Now with no snow to challenge us, the winter is just long. |
| Created on 21 March 2025, updated on 30 March 2025 by Samuel Ethan Fox |