"A Patch of Old Snow"

We were definitely spoiled--as far as I can tell. Three major snow storms occurring before Christmas? That's a rarity around here, as far as I know. But, they say, if you dont like the weather in Maine, wait a minute . . .it will change. And it has. Starting last weekend, we have been getting very mild temperatures (it reached 48 degrees one day) that have been melting our beautiful snowy landscape.

For someone like me (or Amanda) who loves the snow, this is such a sad, sad occurrence. I feel at my emotional and spiritual best when it is cold and my world is blanketed in white. People ask me all the time why I like the snow--they say I must snowmobile or downhill ski. I do neither of those things (well . . .I'd love to own a snowmobile . . .but that's for another day's dream). I just like to walk in it. Isnt that funny? I'm perfectly happy to strap on snowshoes, go for a walk, and then return to my wood stoved house. I love how the world slows down when it snows. I love how everything seems so cozy and close when trees and bushes are glazed with white. I love the silence. And I love the smell of snow. So, it follows, that when snow goes away, I get sad.

The melting of snow is, now that I think of it, a more profoundly sad thing than I've ever expected it to be. When you are used to seeing the world a certain way, and then that world changes, its a terrible experience. In my mind, the melting of snow is akin to ending any type of relationship; its a parting of ways, and that never is good . . .for the most part.

The beginnings of relationships are magical, new, fresh, and teeming with excitement. There is so much to DO. We have hopes and dreams and things we NEED to accomplish with one another. We think toward the future. This is new snow.

After new snow falls, starts melting little by little. You may get a rain shower or another snow shower that settles itself on top of your original snow. Layers pile up and become hardened, icy crusts. The new snow, now affected by the next day's sun or wind, removes itself from tree limbs and crevices, from rooftops and car hoods. Its simply not as fresh. Plow trucks and sanders taint the virgin whiteness with their debris--albeit necessary debris (for safety, of course). Just like within the context of a relationship, "the honeymoon is over." Like the snow, we begin to see the hardness and multi-layeredness of who we're with. The "partner" looks less desirable than they originally did. And dirtier.

The breakup comes inevitably. The snow melts. You can't go on like normal, because something has definitely changed. The ending of a relationship is unattractive, messy, and unresolved--like the piles of sand clumped up intermittently on the sides of roads and driveways. Or spotted black banks of crusty snow which, like some innermost feelings and emotions we hold onto, refuse to melt away; they will eventually, but it will happen so subtly that you won't notice, since there is a preoccupation with what is new: spring, greeness, sun. Ice dams drip slowly, constantly, annoyingly from roof valleys, fall onto walkways and dooryards, freeze up once again in black icy puddles, and linger on like yesterday's news. You'll remember that beautiful place though. You'll remember the mystique of what was.

Here's a poem by Robert Frost called "A Patch of Old Snow." Its absolutely a perfect poem for today in Fairfield Maine. And its penned by an absolutely wonderful New England poet whom you all should read . . .

A Patch of Old Snow

There's a patch of old snow in a corner

That I should have guessed

Was a blow-away paper the rain

Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if

Small print overspread it,

The news of a day I've forgotten --

If I ever read it.