Snow in Chicago

 Snow holds no mystery for us as we have experienced it for our entire lives until we got married and fled. But then my husband was a TA at Iowa State University. Snow swept across the prairie and locked us in at any given time.

Victorville, California

And then...

We dwelled in Victorville, California, in the Mojave Desert, a hellish wasteland. Surrounded by flat fields of sand, sagebrush, scrubs, and tumbleweeds, our family grew there for seven years. When the temperature plummeted to 94 deg. F/37 C., it felt like we needed jackets.

And then....

We moved to Ireland then where there was rain every day.  It was joyous, for the world was green and lush. Sadly, we lived there for only a few years.

And now...

Now we are enjoying a fairly even climate and enjoying the beauty of our area.  But, we miss some of the spring, all of the fall, and maybe a nibble of winter from Illinois. Summer in the Midwest is not missed at all.

And then...

My son John married Arlette in Chicago at December 4, 2016, with both families all around. What we also experienced was an unexpected taste of winter.

Just a taste, a beautiful taste was all we needed.

A cemetery was across the street from our really cool hotel. When
we arrived , I promised our gr-daughters we would explore
it tomorrow.

And then...

The next day we woke up to see snow, it was glorious.

The table on the balcony was pure and smooth.

Our gr-daughters were thrilled when the snowflakes began
to fall. 

And then the next day, we left the snow behind and flew

to LAX. The diamonds of light lay down below, making Los Angeles 

truly resemble where angels might actually have been.

God created snow, rain, desert, etc. He has a plan for us, for what awaits us. 

Snow? It is all part of the plan, just like barren wilderness or swamps, it is all part of His plan.

So, I guess we have to go with "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

This is a post from long ago.  Our son John got married back in 2016, and it was a great day.

follow the cold wind

 

Winter Winds, Chopin, Pentatonix

 

Last rays of sunset

Lace through bare trees.

As light fades, a chill wind blows.

Swirls fallen crumbled leaves,

Once so bright and drifting

With a dancer’s flourish.

In darkness, the clouds roll back

As a scroll of gray and black. 

The reigns of summer and autumn

No longer tower and burn.

Midnight reveals

A treasure chest of winter:

Ice and snow prepared

To lay a frozen ruin to the land.

 

  https://youtu.be/pHlqEvAwdVc

 

Wednesday Words, from 2012. We bloggers are blessed. to be surrounded by so much talent. We have been roasted by high temperatures for the past month.  I would like to have some cool weather.  Not cold, mind you. Just cool.

Treasure Chest of Winter

Winter Winds, Chopin, Pentatonix

 

Last rays of sunset

Lace through bare trees.

As light fades, a chill wind

Swirls fallen crumbled leaves,

Once so bright and drifting

With a dancer’s flourish.

In darkness, the clouds roll back

As a scroll of gray and black. 

The reigns of summer and autumn

No longer tower and burn.

Midnight reveals

A treasure chest of winter:

Ice and snow prepared

To lay a frozen ruin to the land.

 

  https://youtu.be/pHlqEvAwdVc

 

Wednesday Words, from 2012. We bloggers are blessed. to be surrounded by so much talent.  The Wednesday Words were a writing challenge for bloggers to make a change with a different something.  

 

Fire in the Trees

 

When cold blows in from 

Canada, pushed up by warm wind from Texas, snow happens suddenly and furiously.  Only older siblings, big enough to sink only to the knee and then leap into the snow face first, could rejoice

                                                     

For two small children, enjoyment was peering out through icy panes and wishing.  Mom…Mom…Mom…Can we go outside, too?  Mom? Mom?  Mom relented only when Mom became unbearable.

Two and four years old, Mary and Bill were wrapped, bundled, booted, and mitten-ed, then given instructions:  Stay on the porch.  Both nodded solemnly.

Mom stood at the kitchen door, staring through the lacy ice crystals at five children enjoying the snow.  Then Bill launched off the porch into deep white sea. Bill, she sighed. 

Stomping out the door, Mom grabbed him by scruff of his coat and pulled him up.  Then Mary whispered, “Mommy!  Mommy!  Look!  Fire in trees!  Fire in snow!”

Fire in the trees?  In the snow?  She beheld glorious cardinals perched in bare trees.  Fiery cardinals with black masks.  Brave cardinals in frigid air. Oh,my! So, so,....

Mom hollered, “You kids get in here.  Been out long enough!”  But she continued to watch until fire became scarlet birds winging over snowy horizons.  

Fire in the Trees
For those bloggers in the beginning of a long winter, this story is about the snow of 1958, which has been called the mini-ice age. This time was our first time on the farm in a very old house.  This post was from December 8, 2014.  Keep warm, enjoy the beauty as much as you are able, and Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Bleak of Winter

Winter and  Cardinal
One the most beautiful birds ever

Depending where you are, it is winter. In Australia, a fire is still being fought in its their roasting heat winter.  In stretches across the U.S., Midwest, East and Northern states are having a cold winter, with snow in parts and bitter wind for all.

Not too much to say about winter, except it gets cold and snowy and windy in many places.  Here is performance of the Boys Choir in Kings College Cambridge. The poem is written by Christine Rossetti, a renown poet.

YouTube about 4 minutes long

Beautifully sung. A little on the slow side, so I would fast forward.

December Winter and Our Old House

Our old house

“An old house is a cold house” and all farming families knew this to be true.  Cold seeped through every crack and crevice, between lathing and ancient plaster, around windows, even through the electric outlets, and our own old house was no exception.

Vacant since before electricity and plumbing, our old house was barely livable, but we would be moving in the second day of September.  After tremendous effort, only the first floor would barely meet our needs, with the second floor having only one bulb.

Winter was brutal that year.  Deep snow surrounded our house, challenging every board and window. Non-insulated water pipes froze along with the newly laid septic line. Now that 1958-59 winter was called the "mini-ice age".

It took our strong parents who had lived in other old houses to stoke coal and oil in kitchen and front room heaters, cover every bed with elderly wool quilts, and surround us five children with warmth and family.

In evenings, we all gathered together in the front room with books, blankets and sweaters, and an ancient black and white television. Nothing was different to us children.  This was life as we knew it. 

Robert, Mary, Don, Bill, and me 1959

Even though upstairs was bitter cold enough to freeze a glass of water solid, our house sheltered us while layers of wool warmth covered three older children sleeping there. Below, our parents, with toddlers, slept in the darkness of a December winter.

At Grandma's house
front: Robert, Bill, me
back: Don, Mary, Dad, Mom

I confess that my eyes are tearing up as this is being written.  Images sharp as the day our lives were lived out in this old house linger before me.  The wool quilts, heaters where we stood, and the laughter echoing in hollow walls surround me.

 

Soar on Wings

R.A. Nature Photography

I have written this first paragraph so many times, each time hoping it would improve eventually.  Every time it sounded like I knew a lot about eagles, etc. which I sure don't.  The paragraphs bored me to tears.  All I can really say with any degree of confidence is what I have observed myself.

Lunch

To watch eagles soaring and catching the thermals is best described as amazing.  Seeing those magnificent birds soaring high and gliding took my breath away.  Then, to gaze at them swoop down to the River, scoop up a fish, and disappear in the trees, well, you just cannot imagine.

When waterways in Canada and Great Lakes freeze over, eagles fly down to my stretch of the country to the Mississippi where the River flows freely and fish are swimming around. Eagles will eat live or dead fish, doesn't matter.

Russ Adams

These photos used were taken near The Marina at the Illinois side of Mississippi River, my home area.  Closest city for reference is Louisiana, MO, just down the River from Hannibal, Missouri (Mark Twain's birthplace). Bird watchers estimate there are 2,000 birds each year along the River in the zone from Alton, IL, to this area, Pike County.**

R.A. Nature Photography

Groups of eagles are called a "kettle", at any given spot, and Birders find it difficult to count.  With all with their feathers fluffed out for warmth or riding the chunks of river ice, this sight stays in my own memory. No photos are ever needed.

Yet those who wait for the Lord 

Will gain strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary.

Isaiah 40:31

**The photos were taken by a fellow student from high school, Russ Adams. Well done, Russ.

W-X Posts: Wyvern and "X", part 1

The letter “W” whirls around my brain like a washer on heavy duty spin.  All my great ideas, the ones I took rigorous notes and scribbles about back in March, now smell as bad as a tri-color pasta salad left too long in the trunk.
 

No, I am just teasing.  I decided to go with a monster theme here, naming one with "W" and the other with "X".

So here it is: 

Wyvern: n.  (heraldry) a two-legged dragon with outspread wings and a barbed tail [M.E. wyver fr. O.F. wyvre, var. of vivre, serpent]  

It makes me wonder how this creature (mythical, I hope) was created.  It took some creative minds and some frightened peasants to come up with such an extreme creature.  Two legs!  Wings!  A dragon!  Barbed tail!  Nothing in God's animal kingdom existed like this Wyvern.  Extremely creative.  Extremely frightening!

From Wikipedia (God bless it!) 

This Wyvern relief carving is in Italy!  

A Wyvern, which is apparently well-known to all except me

 I bet you think I will drop the ball with "X".  Check it out tomorrow!

Joy of Words: #2

On Monday, I posted six words for “Joy of Words” flash fiction.  It seems only right that I come up with some piece of 50 words or less.  So here goes:

Viewing disappearing tracks, I sensed that in this place, past and present merged, overlapped.  I inhaled cold winter air filled with memories of winters past.  An indistinct longing swept through me.  Stepping onto uneven ground, I set out to discover where I belonged.