Snowledge
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“Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
A white winter. A city walloped with feathery flakes. Layers collect and cower on sidewalks and sills. In minds. Inches then feet of blanched and benevolent frost. The hum of laughter and shovels. The song of a season.
The innocence doesn’t last. Time and traffic, days and rays, and it fades. White grows gray. Solid turns slush. Puddles on corners.
But before it goes, memories come. Floating down like the flakes. Memories of faded faces. Of Irish hats and tattered jeans and oil skin coats. Of walks with dogs in winter white.
In the glow of snow, the color comes. The hue of him, who he was. Who was he? He was the man who brought me donuts on Sundays. He was the man who called me Maids. He was the man who walked the dogs through the seasons of his days.
He was the man with the mustache and the mind. He was the man who loved Mom, and us. He was the man in my life.
He was the man who loved snow. I think I remember this about him.
Or maybe it’s just the picture. The one that hangs in our powder room in the home he will never see. This is what we have now. Pictures. Memories. Snow.
My mind dances to today. To little people whom he will not know. Joyful creatures who stumble and tumble in the whiteness out back. With freedom, they frolic and fall. With tiny hands, they build a big man.
A great man. A man faceless with possibility. He will not last forever, this man. Nobody does. But he is here now. Standing tall in the whimsy of whiteness, whistling in the winter wind, watching the world, waiting to melt, wondering what’s next.
In the darkness, he lingers, limbless and loving, a poet made of powder, alone and aware. A man of snowledge.
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Do you enjoy snow and seasons? Does the winter whiteness force you to slow down and remember what was?
Everyone struggles and...
Given that I was born on the day of the first snow in a particularly vicious winter, I feel an obligation to love snow and the cold, and I do when I’m not trudging through it with my laptop bag and my too-high heels. But I’m so much happier in the spring and summer.
Snow doesn’t have the effect on my memory that it does on yours – I haven’t known much grief in life but I am reminded much more strongly of those without whom we carry on by places and thoughts and mannerisms and belongings, not a blank expanse of snowflakes.
Why does the snow trigger your memories so strongly? Is it just that the Man of Snowledge loved snow and thus you remember him with it, or is it the fact that it is snowing that makes you introspective?
Really beautiful. How are you taking those photos? They are amazing. I think weather and the seasons evoke memories in all of us. He may not “last forever” but you can make sure those girls know him anyway.
Living on a farm, I do love the snow since it gives us a chance to slow down- no garden, no hay making, just time to tend the woodstove (how we heat our house) and the creatures, reflect on joys & hardships of the past seasons, and curl up with a good book or a seed catalog until spring.
That being said, I also have a kind of melancholy relationship with this time of year. It’s hard to believe it’s already been 6 years, but as I finished college I moved home in early January to be with my Dad, who was terminal but wanted to spend his last days at home. I cared for him, as well as my mom and sisters, until he passed on the last day of February. So while I do enjoy the winter, the snow this time of year tends to make me more than a little sad at times.
Yes, this slowing down is what I love. But slowing down for me also means thinking more. And I already think plenty. During the winter, when I am curled up in my blankets, I am also curled up in the past. Past seasons. Past snows. I have learned to embrace these times, when my mind dances and goes back. I think it is good to think about things, even difficult things. That said, I am sorry this is a tough time for you. May there be harvest in the memories that come.
I love, love, love this post. The memories of him and the new memories made by your sweet creatures. When you write about your dad, the memories, the loss, the love, it resonates with me.I love the pictures,they are beautiful.
I think for a lot of people that grew up in the northeast, snow season can be particularly evocative of childhood memories. Snow days, ski trips, the squeak of boots in snow… And of course we didn’t know then what a hassle snow can be, because our parents took care of all of that for us.
I think you are right. Being raised in the land of white winters, these snow days have a certain, admittedly vague nostalgia to them. It’s odd because I don’t have a ton of stark memories about being with my Dad in the snow, but I think that picture (a wedding gift from a well-known photographer friend and neighbor) makes me conflate memories of my father with memories of winter. And, yes. Our parents took care of it all. And now it is our turn. Oh, how seasons shift and times change.
Perfect and poetic.
I think we all have times and seasons and places that evoke memories. Memories that make us feel both full of what once was, and empty for what is no more.
Perfect and poetic. Truly.
ah, beautiful. such warmth and love to your melancholy. life seems to move in messy yet calming circles sometimes…
Really beautiful.
Beautifully haunting!
I am particularly touched by “A great man. A man faceless with possibility. He will not last forever, this man. Nobody does. But he is here now.”
Isn’t this what life is all about?
Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for sharing this beautiful piece of you.
Thanks for reading, Crystal. I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess it is a piece of me. Every post is. But the puzzle? It’s never complete. That’s what makes life interesting, isn’t it?
I’ll be 42 in May and can say without question, that I have been in the snow less than 42 times. But I very much enjoyed the pictures in this post.
Although I live in Colorado now, I grew up in Texas, where snow was a rare and special treat- and a guarantee of a ‘snow day.’
Living here, I still get a thrill when I see the flakes coming down, and feel the urge to hunker down with a good book, a cup of tea and some stew on the stove.
The great thing about living on the front range is that after the snow falls, the sun comes out again, leaving the roads clear and dry. The gray slush and sludge that lasts for weeks in other places is a rare thing here.
No slush? No sludge? And sun? You are lucky to be where you are. Outside our home right now, there is a mountain of filthy snow. On top, there are countless bags of trash that the city has not picked up. It’s a truly depressing and disgusting sight. And you know what? They are predicting another storm in the next couple days… Lovely.
Winter is a season that invites all layers of grief inside of me. The feelings pour about, sifting this way and that, squishing out the sides.
Aidan, this piece is hauntingly lovely. It helps me make friends with the grief inside of me. It feels like that is what you’re doing. Not OK that he is gone, merely finding a way, your way, of continuing to live.
Your words are so beautifully sing song with the alliteration. Snow and winter remind me of my youth. A time with my mother and father, shoveling snow, sledding, braving the quiet of the storm. I miss the snow and the seasons.
Beautiful. You have officially made me change my perspective of snowmen.
I love how you presented your dad’s photo in this post – it really seemed to bring your memories to life. Your daughters look like they are having so much fun. Snow always makes me feel hopeful and nostalgic. I still anticipate school closings and comfy, leisurely mornings. And I work from home with no kids! Every day should be a snow day:)
I remember something you wrote about your father a while back, that he said he knew there was life after death because life would go on in you, your sisters, your mother. That has really stuck with me, and this post resonates that same poignant message. Sending you warmth in the midst of all of this snow, Aidan.
Powerful post, Aidan. I love how your words dance between past and present, snowman and your father. And the ethereal and transitory nature of snow and life.
In New Mexico, we are bracing for snow that’s predicted to arrive over the next few days. But it won’t be much in comparison to how much you guys have had. Hope you get some sunshine and warmer temps soon!
How very beautiful and moving. I lost my father earlier this year, so I’m very familiar with the mixed feelings from memories of someone you’ve loved and lost.
I hope you find a part of your Dad in every snow angel, snow man, and beautiful snow flake that falls. And that he stays with you after it all melts, reminding you he’ll be back to play.
Exquisite. You have brought tears to my eyes.
Beautiful and poignant. The way you talk about it all. Your father and the memories that he won’t be able to experience. Really hits home.
What great pictures and beautifully written words. I must say that I have not been enjoying the snow. But today, as my son and I were on our way home, he climbed on snow mountains and it made me stop and realize how much HE enjoys it. And will enjoy it. So the next time it snows here in NYC, we’re heading outside to enjoy nature.