First "snow"

Well, all huff and puff and no measurable snow here. Went to church this morning to find it was canceled due to weather! Perplexing to say the least. But that led to a nice "breakfast at the Brass Compass" (the title of my 2nd book). Now I am supposed to be preparing for my reading this afternoon and pretty much think that no one will attend. It's just icky out: windy, cold, wet.

So what is to be said poetically about weather anyway? Does it inspire us to write or slow down the creative juices and clog the veins of creativity? For me, the nastier the weather, the warmer I feel about my writing. I love the nuances in nasty weather, from the shifting sleet against the windows to the abject silence of a deep snowfall. There is just something about the lack of sunshine that makes me feel cozy and soft. Cozy and soft are great places for me in terms of inspiration. And then there is the danger of wicked wicked wind. What's not to love about that kind of writing?

There are some wonderful "weather" poems we can turn to for inspiration. Richard Wilbur's great one, First Snow in Alsace, is about weather and of course SO much more. If you haven't read this one, I suggest you find it. When you do, you will find that there is so much more than weather. I'd love to have a conversation about this poem and any other so-called weather poems. Seems like the time is right.