snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
I'm a seventh-generation Floridian (did you know that there was such a thing?) who subscribed to Yankee magazine when she was eleven. When I was eight and visiting family in Buffalo I pogoed up and down on my cousin's bed and marveled that she wasn't absolutely flabbergasted and thrilled at that white stuff falling from the sky. When I attended graduate school in Chicago I trudged a mile each way to class in the snow and loved everything except the icy cold on my ears. And even now--even after the startling snowstorms we had last year in Pennsylvania--I adore the snow. It reminds me of my late father, the Buffalonian who couldn't escape to Florida quickly enough. It reminds me of my first winter living in Arkansas when I played so long outside that I nearly developed frostbite. It reminds me of the Coleridge poem "Frost at Midnight" and how thrilling it was to receive an A from the teacher I idolized in college when I explicated it. It reminds me of how precious and fleeting the seasons of our life are (after all, could a Florida kid who wanted to be a Vermonter be terribly happy-go-lucky?). Most of all, though, it reminds me, as I watch my own daughter frolic in the snow, to hold onto childlike glee and wonder whenever I can.
*****
[See previous "framed" features here.]
4 comments:
Not only the photo, her writing too. I double checked where she lived, hoping before I saw that she did live in a place with seasons.
And now I, a Californian, am left wanting to give my girls a home with seasons...
Lovely thoughts Joyce and gorgeous photograph!
Delightfully perfect for the Delightful blog. Love the image, love the words.
Thanks for putting some extra warmth into my heart today Joyce!
This is so pretty.
I love that part of my job as a mother is to show them that glee and wonder. I love that it means I can feel it too. I'm so curious about your daughter- if she'll be like you or your father.
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