Ever get water up your nose while taking a shower during the winter months and be reminded of swimming in the ocean on a warm summer day? Well that was a bit like being inside our snow cave with candles burning, drinking beer, as the blizzard whipped outside, Earl waiting for chip crumbs to fall to the snow, eating them like ice cream treats.
Found this Gary Snyder poem which kinda reminds me of the surreal nature of weather, and even more bizarre, how we accept it, but find so many other, much less mystical experiences so benign. Ya know, like, people have a hard time understanding a big blue canvas as art, or a man locked in a room with wolves, but they will watch snow fall from the heavens and pile up outside their windows while baking cookies?
Pine Tree Tops
in the blue night
frost haze, the sky glows
with the moon
pine tree tops
bend snow-blue, fade
into sky, frost, starlight.
the creak of boots.
rabbit tracks, deer tracks,
what do we know.
