Beyond the Snow Belt

Beyond the Snow Belt
by Mary Oliver

Over the local stations, one by one,
Announcers list disasters like dark poems
That always happen in the skull of winter.
But once again the storm has passed us by:
Lovely and moderate, the snow lies down
While shouting children hurry back to play,
And scarved and smiling citizens once more
Sweep down their easy paths of pride and welcome.

And what else might we do? Let us be truthful.
Two counties north the storm has taken lives.
Two counties north, to us, is far away, –
A land of trees, a wing upon a map,
A wild place never visited – so we
Forget with ease each far mortality.

Peacefully from our frozen yards we watch
Our children running on the mild white hills.
This is the landscape that we understand, –
And till the principle of things takes root,
How shall examples move us from our calm?
I do not say that is not a fault.
I only say, except as we have loved,
All news arrives as from a distant land.

— Mary Oliver


Igloos and snowball fights

I love winter.

robert frost

What’s a little snow?

Nobody sings “Over the Rainbow” like this guy.

For those of you not in the area, we’re in the midst of a blizzard. Quite lovely, peaceful and, in its own way, liberating.

Out my window

A blanket of peaceful white. Very happy to be in the middle of a winter wonderland. I am a woman of the North.

Such a little inconvenience for all this cold beauty.

Celebrating snow

We are having a glorious winter, so far. Lots of fluffy, beautiful and very, very peaceful snow.

Kind of cute that The New Yorker put Pope Francis on the cover — making a snow angel.

In every way, a gorgeous day

There is so much beauty in the world. This morning, for example, a friend and I hiked along the river, enjoying the sun’s lovely glance off seven inches of fluffy snow. We saw birds and ice and winter weeds. And a wide expanse of pretty, pretty blue sky.

Beauty is the answer to everything.

Blue skies and snowshine

A beautiful winter morning is the absolute best. Enough! I can’t resist its pull. Been working for four hours — going out for a walk.

Can you feel its power? Or, are you afraid to venture into its cold beauty?