December 17: Touch-and-Go Creek World, Snow Storm, Yoopers

All this means is that the physical world as we understand it now is more like the touch-and-go creek world I see than it is like the abiding world of which the mountains seem to speak . . .

Yes, very little in the physical world is abiding.  Mount Everest.  The Pacific Ocean.  Lake Superior.  Enormous things that leave you breathless.  Maybe.  But even those landscape features are not that eternal.  There's erosion, pollution, earthquakes, avalanches, and blizzards.  If there's one thing that permanent about the physical world, it's impermanence. 

I'm looking outside right now, and all I see is snow.  A lot of snow.  I spent two hours this morning shoveling.  By the time I was done, I could have started all over again.  My guess is that, by the time this little weather event is over, I will have to shovel at least four more times.  This will also involve a great deal of profanity and many milligrams of ibuprofen. 

But, that's what winter in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is:  snow, wind, and changeable driveways and front yards.  It's a cold, long tunnel to Spring.  Nothing slows Yoopers down, though.  For example, my daughter has a dance lesson in a couple hours in Marquette, about 20 miles away.  We will be there for that lesson.  In fact, we'll probably be a little early.  Because that's the way Yoopers roll.

I do love winter.  Love the whole Currier and Ives vibe.  I better, because it will be an abiding presence in my life for the next five or so months.

Please vote for Saint Marty (Martin Achatz)

Voting for Next Poet Laureate of the U. P.

August 16: Winter Day, Weather, Rain

As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand.  The city had entirely vanished.  Not a vestige of it was to be seen.  The darkness and mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

The above paragraph is Dickens' description of the beginning of Scrooge's wanderings with the Ghost of Christmas Past.  I think I mentioned before Dickens' use of setting and weather. The Inimitable, as Dickens liked to call himself, is single-handedly responsible for creating the stereotypical Christmas scene, with snow and cold and holly and ivy and so forth.  Even though snow was not a common occurrence in London, Dickens paints a picture that's all Currier & Ives.  Scrooge's memories of his childhood are all frost-tinged and icicle-laden.  Bing Crosby would have had no problem singing about Dickens' version of the holidays.

In other sections of A Christmas Carol, Dickens uses weather and setting to similar effect.  The Ghost of Christmas Present is surrounded by snow.  He and Scrooge plow through drifts as they navigate the streets of London.  The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is shrouded in fog and darkness.  Weather is as much a character of the story as Jacob Marley or Bob Cratchit.

I love rain storms.  This morning, it was pouring when I was getting ready for work.  In fact, the sky was streaked with light and thunder.  I almost didn't take a shower, but decided that hygiene was more important than safety.  On my drive to the office, the rain sounded like an army battalion marching on the roof of my car.  I don't know what the rain and lightning represent for my day.  I'm not expecting any sort of conflict or upheaval.  I'm not expecting any sort of cleansing or threshing of the fields of my life.  I just like rain.

I'm not sure what Dickens would make of my storm this morning, either.  I'm sure I could turn it into an ominous portent for the future, mental illness or financial instability.  I could also turn it into an omen of good fortune, weight loss or the Nobel Prize in Literature.  However, sometimes rain is just rain.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

Saint Marty's still holding out for the Nobel Prize.

This may mean a bad day