Wednesday, August 12, 2009

the weather report

And so progresses the August retreat. The strands of contemplation circle around living deliberately and with compassion; both of which are difficult concepts to grasp in the ebb and flow of reality.

In the almost two years of writing at DYP!, one constant has been the weather updates and a report on the current reading material; a metaphor for the immediate moment, emotionally, intellectually, physically. Here, presented as the Retreat Edition DYP!: week 1, are chronological compilations from the past of living in the present.


a dark and stormy night
trying to rain

not as bad as expected and an amazing sunset
damn cold
so cold the cats are huddled on top of any object of heat and the windows rattle rattle rattle in the wind
ambivalence beautiful cold

full of sunshine

too cold for the butter to soften, even after eight hours
the wasps are still alive, how do they manage?
flannel sheets
snow tomorrow!
between storms
clear, but do we really require a foot of snow?

60's, sunny, gentle breeze

snow snow snow snow
eight inches of snow -- eight!
is this good? is this kind? is this necessary?
three cheers for global warming

still warmish
brittle sunny clear

undoubtedly January
brisk sunshine
winter continues
snow expected
clearing, supposedly
yes, of course, yet more snow


single digits again
you guessed it! more snow!
hot cold hot again
twelve plus inches of the fluffy white stuff for the morrow

pothole season

early spring indeed
first constitutional of the season
the final day of winter: wintry mix of snow, sleet, rain, and slight hail
not bad, perhaps.
smells and tastes and feels like spring!

April showers and all that
bulbs in flower
replenishing the depleted vitamin D reserves
progressing onward through to summer at a brisk trot

first thunderstorm of the season
trees in leaf flowers in bloom birds in flight
hopefully the final frost
lilacs! lilacs! lilacs!

cycling season for we hobbyists who cannot abide current gas prices
delicately cloudy
dawn clouds
windy with a chance of summer
the gorgeousness of May: cocktails and early suntans and bliss

there is a scent which I associate with early summer in New England, a combination of new grass, newly mown, and the freshness of trees after the rain, and a background of flowers and cars and, well, summer. It's almost here.

full moon
strawberries Monday

June rains
July bliss
July heat and humidity in one convenient package

full moon over the mountain
wind, rain, thunder, lightening, summer
how can temperatures still be in the nineties, but the grocery have autumn mums on display?

air conditioner out, duvet in
the desultory early loss of leaves

suddenly September
the rain it raineth every day
endless autumn mornings punctuated by the fog of things to come
Early evening. Early autumn. Perfectly golden sunset. Earlier, clouds.
September skies
perfect, but who is ready for October?

a bite of things to come
cold cold cold cold cold too soon
the cats sleep on top of the radiator as the first snowflakes appear
cold dark & raining
early winter
snow tires on, snow shovel stashed, storm windows in place

slushy: snow, sleet, rain, and more rain
the thaw between storms
four inches of frozen slush covered with a blanket of snow
{all disdainfully plowed, partially melted, and refrozen}
cold cold cold

When the man stated "lows around 5 or 6 above," what I heard was "5 or 6 above freezing;" it was only later that I realized it was "5 or 6 above zero." Ah, delusional optimism. Only four more months of winter!

A burnt hand, a sliced thumb, a bleeding finger, a snowed in car, now covered in a thick coat of solid ice, and the beginning of tax season. Tell me about the weather.

messy and unnecessary and character building perhaps
the great thaw following the February full snow moon
a dusting of late winter snow
sunny with a chance of spring
snow sun and some rain

clearing into spring
the final well earned thaw

moody, somehow fitting for the time of year. Depressive skies set off by flamboyant daffodils, random bits of snow, and the overall threat of rain. The off-stage organist is about to break into the soundtracks for one of the gothic silent films -- Nosferatu or Phantom of the Opera or whatnot -- and we will all cringe before the terror of . . . .

almost, almost, almost gin and tonics
and, oh!, do I miss parties where everyone was sloshed on Pimm's!
the clouded perception of days of cold damp drizzle

everywhere, the satiated scent of lilacs
the deep purple explosion of iris in bloom
not quite amenable to tap dancing on roller skates in Central Park
glorious, mostly
this is June?

gin and tonics and strawberries and chocolate cake and lingering evenings and all that June was designed for
the final ending of a too-melodramatic June
the ephemeral beauty of fresh raspberries

the days of summer when cool lingering mornings give way to sultry afternoons and unceasing evenings of brilliant clouds
from sun to rains and back again
this much rain has not fallen over a summer since that which I spent in Edinburgh, the summer that laundry never dried, endless pots of tea were steeped, and I purchased the umbrella that still serves today
pineapple print summer dresses

Rilke, "Letters to a Young Poet"