'April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.'
t.s. eliot.....
from the Burial of the Dead....
while the world celebrates the warmth of the sun and the shedding of winter clothes, i wonder why i feel this desperate feeling of having lost control...the security of scarves and mittens, hats and parkas...the quiet world of the cold...there is a comfort there...hiding in layers of fabric unseen by the eyes of the world, always judging, always watching...
one of my favourite short stories written by Conrad Aiken entitled Silent Snow, Secret Snow is something i have read and re-read so many times in my lifetime...i can feel the cold wind on my face when i read his words...he describes the magic of the winter in such an ethereal way...
'...at last his steps were curiously different, they were softer,
they had a new secrecy about them,
they were muffled and indistinct;
and while the rhythm of them was the same, it now said a new thing-
it said peace,
it said remoteness,
it said cold,
it said sleep...
snow growing heavier each day, muffling the world, hiding the ugly....
the hiss was now becoming a roar-the whole was a vast moving screen of snow-but even now it said peace, it said remoteness, it said cold, it said sleep...'
i often wonder why Canadians cannot embrace the winter and the pureness of fallen snow...i realize they are so automobile oriented that the arrival of the snow presents a problem for them in terms of tires and anti-freeze and traffic jams...therein lies the problem...we have lost sight as a society of the simplicity of life and have complicated it to the point where we are incapable of happiness without perfection...a sunny day and dry roads means easy....clouds and snow or rain means difficult...in a language so simple and childish...this is how people conduct their lives ... it saddens me...the hedonistic world that we live in...the sun worshippers have deprived themselves of a world of peace and beauty by denying the climate for half of every year they live ....
to quote poet Thomas Carew from his poem, The Spring...' she doth carry June in her eyes...in her heart January...'
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