Our Weekend Weather
I love a storm. Love anticipating a storm. Love buying an extra box of butter for a storm. Love watching the flakes fall. In fact, I love that whole shopping-for-a-storm part so much that some time ago I wrote a listener commentary about it for our local NPR station.
This holiday weekend finds us south-of-Buffalo,NY-types waiting for our first storm of the year. Such waiting made me imagine snowflakes waiting to fall, snowflakes wondering about their fates. I imagined I could hear them, something I've done before. The unheard sounds of snowflakes is a topic I love.
Students - do you have topics that you circle back to the way our dog Cali circles back to her buried bone out back? It's interesting to read through your notebook, just looking for patterns, for words and ideas and themes that seem to find you over and over again. Such reading helps writers understand what matters to us most.
If you seek a beautiful list book about different names for snow in all of its forms, I recommend this one. My use of the word "lace" in today's snowy poem most likely came from reading this book to our children many many times.
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