Tag Archives: snow
“Advice is like snow – the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper in sinks into the mind.”
-Samuel Taylor coleridge-
“SNOW AND ADOLESCENCE ARE THE ONLY PROBLEMS THAT DISAPPEAR IF YOU IGNORE THEM LONG ENOUGH.”
Zen Snow Shoveling
If we believe that enlightenment is a product of meditation and intuition rather than faith. We must then believe that the art of shoveling snow is just a way of creating a path for future travels.
When the depth of our opponent is that of just a few inches we need to remember that “Speed Creates Power”. A firm but flexible grip on the shovel handle is important for transferring power from our hips once in a relaxed horse stance.
Sometimes while attacking greater depths of snow, as in life, one must take two steps backward before initiating the attack with a forward thrust. Do this with “snap and power” This can be a power move keeping your center low.
The question that one should ask is: “How good do you want to be?”
Driving indoor temperatures below the forty degree mark, residents tried to bundle up and dig out of two feet of snow. Without generators to power wells, they used bottled water for toilets or filled motel rooms.
The winter storm blanketing the region has left thousands of Dutchess County, NY residents without power as of Wednesday afternoon. Many were still without power Sunday evening. Power officials noted that over 150,000 customers were left without power which is about half the companies total customer base.
Crews continued to restore power into Monday while county and city crews cleared fallen trees throughout the area.
A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS…IN FEBRUARY?
Patty: Try to catch snowflakes on your tongue. It’s fun.
Linus Van Pelt: Mmm. Needs sugar.
Lucy Van Pelt: It’s too early. I never eat December snowflakes. I always wait until January.
Linus Van Pelt: They sure look ripe to me.
“Advice is like snow; the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.”
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge-
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost (1923)
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
-Robert Louis Stevenson-
Earth teach me to forget myself as melted snow forgets its life. Earth teach me resignation as the leaves which die in the fall. Earth teach me courage as the tree which stands all alone. Earth teach me regeneration as the seed which rises in the spring.
Mom made me buy the four-door model which was painted the same color as dried mustard when caked around the French’s squeeze bottle for a week.
The choice was between two 1972 Datsun 510’s known as Nissan today. The 510 was priced as the “poor man’s BMW” a handling machine that stuck to the corners like corn batter in a hot baking dish.
I wanted the bright orange two-door with two black racing stripes that worked their way from the trunk to the front bumper. Just the appearance of speed was all I needed, and it was calling my name. I lost the battle.
The 510 was a replacement for the 1961 cream over turquoise Ford Falcon that I had inherited somewhere in high school. Using my underdeveloped skills in auto shop, I somehow was able to funnel all the exhaust into the cabin of the two-door when climbing hills. It was a cheap high, and made for more subdued friends.
The vehicle served me well over the years through my first newspaper job and my epic journey from Canada to the Mexico border satisfying my wanderlust as a photographer.
There was plenty of room for all the needed camera equipment; camping gear; boxes of books and the guitar.
The price for a gallon of gas was thirty-five cents and with a little money in the bank and fueled by a lost love I started north towards the Oregon and Washington coastline. Over the next several week I was soon headed for Glacier National Park just as winter was setting in.
The night was no colder than those I had already encountered on foot in the backcountry during the earlier three weeks. I was at least back to the campground with a table and fire circle. My 510 and I were the only man and machine left in the campground.
It was around two in the morning when I glanced at my watch. I was awaken by the type of quiet that could only ride on the shoulders of trouble. I tried tossing back the small green door of the canvas tent to grab the lantern left sitting outside just hours earlier and was surprised by an icy wall of snow that stopped just below the tent’s peak.
Looking towards my buddy only bits of mustard yellow poked out from the hood and roof creating some pretty ugly yellow snow.
I dug to the front doors to find them frozen solid, like blocks of ice. I was able to just to pry one of the back doors open enough to squeeze through to the front seat and fire her up, warming the engine.
It took three more days to dig out to “Going to the Sun” road and I guess mom was right about the four-doors.
I only wish she would have prepared me for surprising a grizzly the next day while on the upper McDonald Creek trail.