Tag Archives: weather

Barometric

Word from you aches like an old injury, a bone broken and healed but never again unassailable, ever sensitive to the plummeting pressure your proximity announces, the atmospheric disturbance of your many promises, breaking. Sheltered by time and space, I nonetheless roil at your slightest approach. An obstinate naivete persists, trusting as a newborn, set […]

Meteorology

I You and your hollow promises. Eager as a child on Christmas, I awaken early, craving the snow you forecast. Ninety percent chance, you said. Two to three inches. Liar. Decades of deceit; countless disappointments. Why do I still trust you? You’re no better than Lucy, promising that this time, this time, you will hold […]

One shot

How it’s done

Meteorological madness, it was, the warnings accreting like worries, overlapping, tumbling into ominous air,  hushed and heavy as portents: Severe thunderstorms. Flash floods. Tornadoes. Streetlights cleaved the midday dark, and when the mouths of the sky opened, they shouted awesome as if Nature were angry at its word being co-opted, diminished, applied to every unworthy […]

One shot

One shot

Frosted

For more than 36 hours last week,  Mother Nature put on a spectacular display in my little mountain town. Hoarfrost is one of winter’s delicate delights and also, usually, its most fleeting; how lucky we were, this time, that it endured. Everything the frost touched was thereby made more beautiful, but none more than manmade objects, […]

Cold

Cold reminds us that – like it or not, and despite our insulating conveniences – we are subject to Nature, with all her dangers and beauties. And those beauties are considerable. Cold lends clarity to the landscape, sharpness to the senses. The blue of the sky deepens; the polar snow glitters in the brittle sun and crunches like potato chips beneath booted feet. The air itself seems alive.

No crying in baseball

A few months back, I wrote about plantis prematuris, that annual futility rite in which winter-weary gardeners seduced by the scent of spring till the soil far too early, knowing full well that frost, snow or some other predictable calamity is apt to kill their tender young charges. I planted kale and spinach – two cold-weather crops — […]

Wet