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WhiteTailedKite of Bluster
Mar. 5th, 2019 10:07 pmI notice that almost all of my posts lately involve snow. There may not be dozens or scores or however many Inuktitut or Inupiat words there apocryphally are said to be for snow, and among them there probably is not one that translates to "Wayne Thiebaud frosting snow," but that's what we have now. The snow mounds have been artistically sculpted by the wind, and the last light, fluffy layer of flakes has been smoothed over them as if with an icing spatula, so the whole landscape looks like a yummy pastel and white dessert painted by Wayne Thiebaud.
Pretty as it is, I'm tired of it. We had to go out and shovel again early, so I could go to my therapy appointment. I swear, when I first signed up for therapy at 9 am, we weren't having this many snow days. When I left the building to come home again, I drove into another blizzard cloud. But by the time I was passing the lake on my way home, the sky over the white expanse of the lake cleared to blue and all was calm. We stayed inside, built a fire, and watched the snow come and go throughout the day.
I sent the Philosopher a birthday card. It had a quote from The Wind in the Willows in it, so I embellished it further with snippets of illustrations copied from my ancient edition of the book, now over 60 years old. It's printed on the kind of thick, durable paper they don't make any more. I was thinking about the characters again, and how they so perfectly express different parts aspects of personality. I always identified most with the sturdy and kind Rat, practical yet poetic, the best of friends. But there's also a part of the humble and affectionate Mole in me, and the wise, earthy, and dauntless Badger. And as for the Toad--oh he's a terrible creature, in great need of reform, as his helpful friends are always telling him. But I wouldn't want to survive as a dull adult, without a trace of the Toad's wild exuberance, his complete confidence in his latest crush, his unquenchable ebulliance, and his inability to believe the worst about himself. Toadie, too, is a friend to be cherished.
Pretty as it is, I'm tired of it. We had to go out and shovel again early, so I could go to my therapy appointment. I swear, when I first signed up for therapy at 9 am, we weren't having this many snow days. When I left the building to come home again, I drove into another blizzard cloud. But by the time I was passing the lake on my way home, the sky over the white expanse of the lake cleared to blue and all was calm. We stayed inside, built a fire, and watched the snow come and go throughout the day.
I sent the Philosopher a birthday card. It had a quote from The Wind in the Willows in it, so I embellished it further with snippets of illustrations copied from my ancient edition of the book, now over 60 years old. It's printed on the kind of thick, durable paper they don't make any more. I was thinking about the characters again, and how they so perfectly express different parts aspects of personality. I always identified most with the sturdy and kind Rat, practical yet poetic, the best of friends. But there's also a part of the humble and affectionate Mole in me, and the wise, earthy, and dauntless Badger. And as for the Toad--oh he's a terrible creature, in great need of reform, as his helpful friends are always telling him. But I wouldn't want to survive as a dull adult, without a trace of the Toad's wild exuberance, his complete confidence in his latest crush, his unquenchable ebulliance, and his inability to believe the worst about himself. Toadie, too, is a friend to be cherished.
