Posted on 01/08/2009 10:46:00 AM PST by Congressman Billybob
Whenever there is a decent snow storm at night, as there was in the Blue Ridge this week, the following morning reminds me of a handful of perfect days in my life, fifty years ago in Salisbury, Maryland.
Salisbury was then a very small town. Located on the Eastern Shore, it was halfway between the Atlantic Ocean and the Chesapeake Bay, about 20 miles away from each. As a six year old boy, I had no comprehension of the influence of geography on weather. All I knew was, there was a sled in the front hall that had been there since September, and the snow for that sled fell everywhere except in my home town.
Of course, there was a sound reason for that. The Bay and the Ocean are both heat sinks. They absorb summer heat, and radiate heat in the depths of winter. That’s why the folks in the Midwest freeze in the wintertime, and fry in the summer. They don’t have any heat sinks. But to me, back then, it only meant that there would be at best, two or three snowfalls, and the snow would be mostly gone before the end of the day.
I will always remember the first snow fall I experienced. I woke up that morning, and something was missing. It was like the A.A. Milne poem, “The Knight Whose Armor Didn’t Squeak,” in which Sir Thomas Tom did not hear the squeak of Sir Hugh’s armor. That morning, I did not hear the ordinary sounds of traffic, and people, and animals and birds, in the 200 block of West College Avenue.
I ran to the window and looked out. The world had a blanket of fresh, unmarked snow on it. That blanket was hiding all the sounds. I was listening to the silence of snow, and that was very good news.
In places like Atlanta, when two flakes fall, the City panics, and the schools close. In places like New Haven, the salt trucks and the snow plows roll, and life goes on as usual unless there is a monstrous blizzard. Suffice to say, Salisbury was like Atlanta. The snow guaranteed the schools would be closed. I’d have the day to play on my sled, and come home wet, cold and tired, to dry clothes and a warm meal.
Those were perfect days. There were perhaps six of them.
Children, of course, believe in perfection if they have a decent childhood. Adults, if they’ve been paying attention, know that perfection is not for this world. Still, a new-fallen snow has its benefits here in the mountains.
The day is still announced by the silence of snow. The first question is whether there’s so much snow so we can’t get out the half-mile gravel road to go to town? Beyond that, is the pleasure of the snow.
There were the paw prints of a fox in the yard today; we have both red and grey ones in the surrounding forest. Our flock of wild turkeys showed up this morning to scratch for acorns on the lawn. There are five turkeys now. A week ago, there were eight turkeys. Probably, one of the foxes met one of the turkeys, producing one well-fed fox and one less turkey.
We’ll go down the driveway very slowly today. We’ll inspect the road and the edges of the forest for evidence of others of our forest creatures, the deer, the bobcats, and so on. It is amazing how much activity goes on, every night around us, which is recorded and displayed in the fresh snow.
That sled from Salisbury is still here. It waits on the porch for someone with better knees and physical aptitude, like any of my grandchildren, to be here when the silence of the snow descends.
And then there is the special beauty of the mountains when the snow is hung on the rhododendrons and the oaks and the holly bushes. It is a silent but eloquent reminder that even if the world isn’t perfect, it can be either better or worse. And it’s our duty to strive to make it better.
That’s what this old man, fifty years removed from a boy with a sled in Salisbury, gains from the snow these days.
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About the Author: John Armor practiced law in the Supreme Court for 33 years. He now lives on the Eastern Continental Divide in the Blue Ridge of North Carolina. John_Armor@aya.yale.edu
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John / Billybob
I just love snow. But living in the most Southern part of the US, we rarely get any. But when it does....oh, the quiet sounds are just so wonderful.
Beautiful, John!
One of my greatest childhood memories was when I was about 6 or 7 years old. We went to a White Sox night game at the old Comiskey Park. I had been to many day games before that but when we walked up to the grandstand and walked out of the tunnel to go to our seats I was truly amazed. The colors of the lights, the blackness of the sky, and how green the grass on the field looked just mesmerized me. I will never forget the magical feeling I had when I walked out to see that field on my first night game.
Species8472 shovels 20+ feet of snow off his roof
I can go out and there wont be another soul anywhere in the woods. You can hike and hunt from sunrise to dark and never see a human footprint.
It was like there wasn't another person on earth, just me and the deer over the next ridge.
Tagline comparison....I’m gonna have to dump mine on January 20.
At 10 below zero, with a brisk wind, there aren’t any deer around to hunt. I know because we’ve been trying that here in Iowa.
That “deer over the next ridge” is a figment of your imagination and probably a sure sign of frostbite to the brain.
:)
My mom told me to just wait a few months. :)
The evening it snowed was magic. My Mom, my Dad and Me watched it fall from an upstairs window. My Mom opened the window and it was so eerie ... not a sound and all this activity in the air! The next day everything was under about a 6-8 inches of snow! Wow!
N.J. is where I leaned about the Revolution. I visited Independence Hall, Valley Forge and all kinds of other famous places and battle sites.
I went as a Patriot with a Tri-Corner hat, trick-or-treating, on Halloween.
Before we moved from N.J. My parents took me to Boston to see the Old North Church, Old Ironsides, Bunker Hill and many other historic sites.
My first snow fall. Wow! It lead to me learning and being taught about this great country.
Around midnight I walked outside and it was snowing at a pretty good rate. The village had street lights but was so small and with the snow coming down each light was an island within the darkness and it was so quiet you could hear every flake hit the ground.
As I stood in one pool of light in the infinite darkness I looked straight up and watched as the snowflakes would appear out of the black night and fall toward me.
I walked the 100 yards to the woods and stood in the dark just listening to the snow fall knew that I was as close to heaven as a human on earth could get.
Yes, I did have those kinds of thoughts at the age of 11.
Get Smart: Why wouldn't she give you a sled?
Man From KAOS: I don't know. Maybe is was 'cause we lived in Florida.
I didn't know that, in fact I don't think the deer I've shot doing that knew either..lol.
Seriously, I've found that when it gets that cold the deer don't even want to run far when you kick them up.
My guess is that they don't want to burn excess calories that they need to keep warm.
I've shot lots of them when it was way below zero.
We only got 8 this year though. ( My son and I)
...but it took your writing to bring out what it must have been like 50 years ago, with a blanket of new-fallen snow.
D@mn, that was a nice piece of writing!
Cheers!
9 degrees Fahrenheit, the place was deserted, and the ticket-taker looked at us like we were nuts.
But it was worth it. Many of the animals, not spooked by the crowds, came closer than normal.
We got to pet a moose on the nose and feel its surprisingly hot breath on our hands; and the Siberian Tigers were romping like kittens, sending up sprays and roostertails of snow.
Then they noticed us, and sat down on the far side of the moat looking up at us, wondering how they were to reach this new and intriguing food item...
I *highly* recommend trying it, if you have the chance.
Cheers! Cheers!
A few years ago in winter I went to a restaurant at the field where the Cleveland Indians play. There was about 10 inches of snow on the field. The whole thing was white, but they had bright red cones on each of the bases and home plate. It was really strange when you think how different it looks on Opening Day.
I take that back. There have been a few snow-outs on Opening Day there.
Lovely article.
Well written.
...and I love that movie.
I do love looking at the snow, and the silence, before the plows arrive is so peaceful. But we're tired of the cold, and we're planning to move back to MS, or somewhere much more South than here!
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