Saturday, February 5, 2011


February already. I'm clearly not very good at keeping a blog. It doesn't help that you have to believe that your thoughts are important enough for others to read, and that you must furthermore solicit their attention through advertising yourself. Like an autobiography, I suppose blogging requires a certain amount of unabashed egotism--which is not to say that I am necessarily lacking in that department; I think I'm just too embarrassed to actually publicize. There is something romantic about the idea of one's thoughts floating through the atmosphere, to be absorbed and pondered by strangers, but that isn't exactly how it works. There is also the small issue that I don't actually do anything particularly interesting!

I had forgotten what winter usually means in New Haven: just cold enough to be miserable, and raining. We have been so lucky this year to get so much beautiful snow. Even the ice storms, though treacherous, have been beautiful. Walking through campus on Thursday, the sunny day after Wednesday's storm, was breathtaking. The trees were sparkling like so many jewels and, even better, tinkling as they rustled in the wind. That sound was perhaps even more descriptive of their sheath of ice than the reflection of color.

Today, on the other hand, was a little miserable. I do love rain, and falling ice can even be magical. A big splosh of something cold and wet hit me in just the right spot on my nose and, after the initial shudder, it was rather remarkable to think that I just so happened to be in the right place at the right time to receive it. However, now all the icy snowbanks and melting into the street with nowhere to go. My street has gone from looking like the frozen north to something out of Oregon Trail. I do secretly hope we get a little more snow to cover up what's left. There is something about snow--especially massive quantities of snow--that is absolutely delicious. Watching snow fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and not knowing when it will stop, and interrupting daily routines with beauty and quiet and softness and huge piles of fluff, is really amazing. Then it stops, and the sun comes out, and it's beautiful. And then I secretly hope it will start snowing again, until it buries everything.

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