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Tuesday, February 01, 2011

Anatomy of a Snow Day

  • Youngest child wore his bright red plaid pajamas inside-out, surefire guarantee of the snow day.
  • Mama and said boy did the Wild Happy Snow Dance just to make sure, with appropriate whooping and wheeling about... It looked rather native American this time. Must've been the 1/16th Mohawk popping out (his, not mine, but evidently contagious.) I would think the snow would obey even a bit of fierce Akewesasne Mohawk, and it certainly did.
  • Visibility: dratted poor, especially when shivering and wet at the bus stop.
  • Snow: deep and falling fast, at the moment fine flakes but filling the air with an artistic southward slant.
  • Plows: excessively busy, buzzing and jingling and getting stuck on our corner with a great racket. Cheerful.
  • Schools: all closed it seems, from more than an hour below us in Binghamton to Delhi to Elmira to Cherry Valley and Adirondack points north.
  • Except: our neighbor Milford (getting out early) and us (nobody's saying.)

Now I go off to write and make podcasts...

* * *

Photograph credit: snow lion courtesy of Nikola Hartmann and


  1. Not really possible to walk outside today. We get the snow and then the ice storm and then a little melt and then more of the same!

    Keep warm and inside and good luck with your podcasts and etc!

  2. Mmm, I bet you are getting hammered. Hope the ice storm doesn't take down the lines...

    Wish I had gone for chocolate and almond milk!

  3. Oh, and the one school that was open has already announced that it's closed tomorrow! Evidently this is the most stalwart village in all Yankeedom.

  4. You should have tried the spoon under your pillow. That always works. Also, you can't say the words "Snow Day" the day before a potential snow day, and if anyone accidentally does, you have to immediately deny it by saying "There will definitely be school tomorrow".

  5. Bowl of the spoon turned up or turned down, I wonder...

    We are very careful to say that there will be school (or else are in danger of scolding!"

  6. Most unexpected and charming post, Marly!

    Podcasts...? do tell us what's afoot.

  7. Ah, thank you for wafting by and leaving zephyrus words!

    Hmm, podcasts. Here is what is up:

    1. "Dream of the Rood" translation for "qarrtsiluni." Longish.

    2. A group of poems, each recorded separately, for the 60th birthday retrospective of my friend Clive Hicks-Jenkins (in Aberystwyth, Wales, come May.) The poems will be in cones of sound above the painting related to the poem.

    3. Poems for "The Flea." Must hurry on that one!

    4. A friend plans to make a couple of little videos to go with poems of mine, and I must record for those as well.

    I never ask anybody to do things of that sort (because I have a dreadful fear of imposing), but I am pleased when people do an accompanying artwork. Plus, of course, it is the most fun sort of getting-the-word-out thing to do.

  8. How exciting! I remember snow days fondly, from my long ago childhood pre California times!
    I HAVE had fire days--not nearly so pleasant, as when everyone was sent home from the college because of nearby brush fires threatening to burn us all up in a whoosh. Ice is far preferable.

  9. N says his math teacher says the Snow Dance has to last ten times as long tonight and that we really have to put our minds into it! As we were going strong for a while, that should be good exercise.

    N also told me the new superintendent is Canadian. Explains all.

  10. How fun, Marly...amazing how connections weave, grow, travel.

  11. Yes, it is fun--such a special gift that people give!

  12. Everyone knows that the only way to encourage snow days is to leave the car out in the road rather than in the garage.
    Oh... and snow dances and spoons under pillows too, of course!

  13. Yes, but. The disadvantage to that one is: a. the village police and their pesky tickets; b. snow plows thinking your tiny Toyota is merely a heap of snow that needs to be scooted away; c. having to later shovel the area that would have been under the car.


Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.