Wednesday, January 26, 2011

A Very Snowy Day

Remember this book? Me too, kind of. And have I posted about it before? Maybe so. But such a sweet cover.

Anyway hi! And yes, it certainly is about time someone blogged. Sorry about the delay. But this semester is crazy-busy, as anyone will tell you, and it's only because of today's snow (thank you, snow!) that the blog is getting any attention at all.

But that's not because we don't care. It's just the Tenants are rather swamped what with the new semester and upcoming visits from job candidates and shoveling. Lots and lots of shoveling. Has this been a hard winter or what? And did you see the first snowflakes this morning? Huge! Prototype snowflakes.

So, how 'bout some news and, um, just some random snowy day thoughts?


Dennis Allen has been checking in from Sabbatical Land where, it turns out, good sentences are as hard to come by as they are in, uh, well, here. Especially when you have to write them yourself. But we know Dennis and we're pretty sure his sentence are way beyond good. So, yea! and keep writing!

Dennis is also your source for up-to-the-minute info on that wow-it's-just-getting-better-and-better PBS series Downton Abbey. I started watching, but I was with my parents at the time (terrible mistake #1) and then left the room ever so briefly (terrible mistake #2) and have missed a lot. Do you know about the Turkish envoy? And the trouble between Lady Mary and Lady Edith? And the limping valet who isn't married and isn't free to marry? What's up with that? And the cook is going blind, says Dennis. The evidence: she put salt on the dessert.

Of course we could have our very own show—Colson Hall—since, as everybody knows, we are nothing if not dramatic. It's a shockingly appealing idea, isn't it?


Um, alrighty (is that a word?), let's see... snowy day thoughts... well... on one hand, the snow is rather pretty (my dogwood looks especially nice in its snowy gloves)... on the other hand, can we get a plow or two and maybe some salt? I mean, really, this town and its roads. Thank goodness school closed for the evening.


I suppose now would be a good time to quote a snowy poem, but I can't think of any. Why don't you write one? Something to do when you finish shoveling. Here, I'll help you. Write 12-14 lines—unrhymed!—using the following words: snow, wire, blue, deer, address, river, wonder, and story. Remember, some words can be nouns or verbs, and yes, you can change tense and make plurals and etc. Oh and use either money or sugar: those two are always good for a little trouble.

Post your results in the comments section, 'k?

And enjoy the rest of your very snowy day.


  1. This is as far as I can get:

    Whose deer this is, I think I know
    His address is in the village, however.
    He will not see me stopping here with my money and sugar
    To watch his wonderful blue woods fill up with snow.

  2. Skating on the Mon

    You called and said, I’m just coming ‘round the bend.
    There are so many, I had to ask. You might arrive at the wrong address.

    Quarter dollars of ice falling from the sky. Let’s play
    in the snow, I said, but settled for a walk, a few snowsuit angels.

    The deer have eaten our jack-o-lanterns. But that’s their story.
    I only hope for cute little pumpkins in the dell come fall.

    You don’t always like my ideas, but look! If the river’s frozen
    we could check on the otters. String wire between ourselves

    like a symbol for holding on. The ice won’t break if we hold our breath.
    There aren’t many days for studying this kind of blue, our shadows,

    and the difference between wondering and knowing is
    this flash of redbird outside the photograph, our breath a visible wake

    (PS: I don't like what this has done to my 6 pretty couplets!)

  3. The snow comes down fast. The river has a story
    it cannot tell. It’s frozen like the faces.
    No one here has shown wonder in years.
    I saw a deer on Price Street caught in wire.
    Write me a letter. Send me a picture of something blue.
    Remind me there’s something more than weather.

    The river has a story it cannot tell. It’s frozen
    like the deer in wire and fear. Write me a letter
    and perfume it with sugar. Address it to the snow,
    with the wonder of a child. Draw me a picture of your face.
    Remind me of when I wore flower dresses
    and marched against the war. When I knew
    of many things beyond the sullen weight of the weather.

    (I agree with Charity. I changed the font size and the lines still went haywire. The world is designed for prose... boooo!)

  4. Wow. Wow. Wow. I'm impressed. More please!