All the Names for Snow

"When faced with a radical crisis, when the old way of being in the world, of interacting with each other and with the realm of nature doesn't work anymore, when survival is threatened by seeminly insurmountable problems, an individual life-form — or a species — will either die or become extinct or rise above the limitations of its condition through an evolutionary leap."
— Eckhart Tolle

Still January 26, 2009

Coming up the walk just a little while ago, the snow had that Very Cold Squeak. We need more words for snow, in all its permutations. Like the Inuit. “Snow” just doesn’t cut it when you’re in the dead of winter.

We need more exciting ways to describe what’s underfoot….like Really F***ing Cold Snow, Deliriously Mushy Snow, Snowman snow, snowball fight snow, Snow that Has Had Freezing Rain Fall on It and Is Now Strong Enough to Support an Eight Year Old Without Them Falling Through. But these types need poetic names! There are just way more types of snow than just “snow”.

Mia’s been writing me letters. It’s great to get cards. Tonight the novelty of writing letters feels slightly worn off, just the way I didn’t want to sit down and write this.

On Friday, another first. Sitting at home in the front room (right now, the massage room) to study instead of going down to the Old Port….staying at home is much cheaper, and I wasn’t feeling all that great…and it became evident that studying at home used to be punctuated with being on the internet.

It’s funny to think that only a month ago this was such a part of my life and that in less than a month I’ve effectively been set free from it. In any case—there would be a period of studying, after which I’d reward myself with some time on Facebook, or checking email. How much brain power and time were spent anticipating these moments or processing these moments afterwards are what scare me. Much more than the 2-3 hours I spent online, on average. Possibly more.

It's Still....Reallllly Cold Out

"Usually people are completely unaware of the roles they play. They are those roles."
— Eckhart Tolle

Still January 26, 2009

I’m getting incredibly blasé about the weather, which, considering how house-bound I’ve been feeling, is rather unbelievable.

Tonight Jeff told me over dinner that it’s supposed to be snowing Wednesday. “What? Really!?” I exclaimed. I pressed him for details but he was annoyingly vague. Still it occurred to me that I hadn’t called the weather forecast to find out when our prison sentence of excessively cold weather was coming to an end. Was I somehow enjoying the punishment too much?

I haven’t been mentioning this experiment to as many people the last week or two, but I should continue to mention it rather than not. People get inspired by it and also say some interesting things.

Cat's Turning Cartwheels Cuz It's Cold as He**

"Although the body is very intelligent, it cannot tell the difference between an actual situation and a thought."
— Eckhart Tolle

Monday, January 26, 2009
Late evening

Just got home from the meeting. I was wanting everyone else to be the writers tonight, so here I am. I would rather be reading the NYT, or Eckhart Tolle, or just about anything or anybody else tonight than writing. So, I’m writing. That’s my call tonight. There are many other activities I would like to engage in: fiddle, guitar, singing, carding wool, knitting, starting a second (or is that third?) knitting project.

There is just such a sense of agitation from the cold weather—it’s been getting down below zero at night, and only in the oughts and teens during the day—that it’s getting hard to be inside my own head.

Fortunately, Jeff was rowdy enough on Sunday, before the temperatures plummeted, to get out with the boys and build on the snow castle that has been evolving on the north edge of the driveway. The walls are now about 4-5 feet tall when you are standing up in it—and to get up in it there are 2 stairways or a short tunnel to crawl through.

If the temp were above 20, I would simply open the windows for a half-hour, or open the big glass kitchen door to the back deck to get a few lungfuls of marvelously oxygen-rich winter air. Not today. Today is the day of the glass box. And a lovely box it is—with stove, tea kettle, woodstove, stereo, and the most beautiful children from whom I need about a two-day vacation, and they me, and probably each other as well—and so it is—a box. A nice box. But a box.

Our twelve-year-old cat has practically been turning cartwheels to unleash the pentup energy, as she has barely been making her winter run out the back door, around the house, and in the front door. Or, when the sun is out and there isn’t too much ice, out onto the back porch in the “warm” sunshine for a few minutes. These things have been off-limits.

Inauguration Day, Part II

January 20, 2009
Inauguration Day, part II

After watching and celebrating at Brenda’s, we walked back home. Charlie stayed out for a bit with me, Baxter went in. I spent about 45 minutes scraping ice off the back porch. The deep untouched snow in the backyard etched in places where footprints had cut through to the back gate.

I kind of wished I had a radio to bring out to listen to NPR while scraping ice off the deck (the thick kind that forms under the icicles). But then I thought, that’s not possible. This is what’s happening right now: the white snow, the sunshine, the icicles dripping, the ice scraping off, sometimes in sheets, mostly in scraggly bits. The vivid blue sky. A beautiful inauguration day. Here in my adopted home state of Maine. Letting the mind digest the intensity of what we’d been listening to, watching. Not overloading. Not incessantly repeating. Not communicating with people I cannot see or hear using an electronic device.
*
Today would have been a good day for wikipedia. Yesterday too. I think about investing in a real encyclopedia set even though it would need to be updated in 5 minutes. Then I remember world book on the computer. Maybe this is in our future. But I still have missed spending days with the old encyclopedias. Remember the encyclopedia salesmen? Remember enjoying a good book?
*
When the kids have questions we would have googled, I write them down to address later. There’s a mindfulness to that.
*
Today I phoned people when I thought of them instead of facebooking, texting, emailing. I called my cousin Sue when I thought how our grandmother Helena would have LOVED today, and also her mother Katherine. She was totally touched that I called. Later I realized it’s because people don’t do this so often. I phoned my aunt and uncle, and of course mrk in Seattle, who sounds like he might have a new girlfriend because he didn’t really have time to talk (!).
*
I seem to be recovering from my weather prediction addiction. Now I’m content with sun/no sun; general temperature range; precipitation or no; wind or no. I don’t need to obsessively call the weather line the way I would obsessively check the weather online.
*
A possible name for what this journal is (even though it’s on the computer): Anablog. Or the Antiblog. As in, not a Blog.
*
Walking to the Rosemont Market tonight between the piles of snow (there's so much now that it’s hard to find a place to put it). I’m becoming a more concentrated version of myself again. Walking along that evening road, amidst all that snow, not available to anyone by the digital networks except maybe Jeff.

Inauguration Day Part I

January 20, 2009
Inauguration Day Part I
My mother’s 70th birthday

Woke up, called my mother for her birthday. She sounded very well, healthy, happy. Enjoying her workouts on the treadmill and reports that she feels less creaky, has less aches and pains.

Then — getting everyone ready to go over to Brenda’s to watch the inauguration from 11:00 till 12:30. We listen to NPR prior. I love the radio. They talk, I listen while doing other things. They describe, I get the picture in my head. The voice can carry so much. The kids were very excited. We have talked much about the historical magnitude of electing this man: more amazing than putting a man on the moon. They came to the polls with both Jeff & me. They have shared in the excitement. They have felt some level of ownership in the fact this man was elected. They have both referred to him as “my president.”

Then over to Brenda’s. She ordered pizza; we festooned each other with little mementos (I had some Lisa Bess earrings; she gave the kiddos Barack Obama pencils). We watched for an hour and a half as many dignitaries, senators, judges, former presidents, new cabinet members, came through the capitol building and through the back door toward the mall (which was packed past the Washington monument) and took their seats.

Then — Obama walks out. A prince, as Garrison Keillor recently referred to him.

*
While the overwhelming feeling for me has been pride in my country, and excitement, etc., I do find that I slip into some shame when I look at the Obamas. I look at President Obama and see a man who has held fast to probably just about every good opportunity that came his way. Someone who has created opportunity for himself. I realize how it is a sign of inherited privilege to abandon opportunity — something I've been guilty of at times.

Martin Luther King, Jr., Day

"There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness."
— Rumi

January 19, 2009 · Monday
MLK Jr. Day

This day has special significance this year given what’s happening tomorrow. For the first time I get a little wistful that I’m not in Washington. Then I remember — the crowds.

Wake up somewhat grieving email. I imagine people all over Facebook plastering themselves with excitement.

I get over this quickly when our homeschool family coop happens, at our house again, with happy kiddos playing all over the piles of snow the plow left behind.

And then we get to work on the newspaper I’m helping them put together, The Blue Eagle. The kids all made badges last week out of watercolor paper and ribbon, and everyone showed up with theirs this week, and their notebooks.

Some had hand-written news stories about grackles stealing fruit or giant icicles; one had compelling photos of fishing and cub scouts on which he declined to comment. They all decorated a letter to go in the name of the paper on the first page.

Talking with Neighbors, Maine Style

[photo by Mia McCullough]

"One inconvenience I sometimes experienced in so small a house, the difficulty of getting to a sufficient distance from my guest when we began to utter the big thoughts in big words. You want room for your thoughts to get into sailing trim, and run a course or two before they make their port."
— Thoreau, "Visitors," Walden

January 18, 2009
Sunday

Snowstorm leaves us with about a foot of snow. Magnificent storm, falling heavily much of the time. Everyone delighted. Had about a 45-minute conversation in the middle of the street with two neighbors up the block — Mike with his homebrew and George in his hat and glasses — talking so long that we accumulated about a half inch of snow on our heads and shoulders.

It occurs to me that I’m approaching a major historical event — the inauguration of Barack Obama — without the internet. There is a feeling of missing something, until I realize that there is NPR, there is the newspaper, and that being glued to the internet for days before, during, after, would cheapen the experience for me. We’re planning to be over at Brenda’s during the inauguration; she’s got cable.