Poems

Stopping By The Woods on (the last) Snow Evening

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An opinion piece in the New York Times suggests we are nearing a time when there will be precious few places in the world with enough snow to hold a Winter Olympics.

Things are changing that fast.

It is remarkable, especially during this unusually brisk and frosty winter, to think that piles and piles of snow could become an oddity reserved for only a few of the planet’s people.

I wish I could say I was doing something to stop this tragedy from unfolding, but my first response to just about any calamity is to write a parody of one of some great author’s work. Not a very effective strategy to stop climate change, but in my defense I can say that I was not driving a gas guzzling SUV all the while I struggled with the task of re-writing Robert Frost’s masterpiece.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
He does not come in winter, though;
The town folks easily get stuck
On nights with just a little snow.

My horse was once a pickup truck.
I had to sell it. Drat the luck.
There’s no more gasoline or oil.
Just horsey rumps and horsey muck.

The world is hot. The oceans boil.
The glaciers melt. Our treasures spoil
It’s something grand to watch the snow.
So strange to see it hide the soil.

That’s why I stopped here for the show
For generations long ago
And future ones who’ll never know
A time when woods could fill with snow.

What is the rarest wonder you’ve witnessed?

36 thoughts on “Stopping By The Woods on (the last) Snow Evening”

  3. Rise and Think Depressing Thoughts, Baboons!

    This Climate Change thing is something I find really depressing–especially after Al Gore started to bring attention to it, then disappeared into his own weird personal crisis leading to divorce and neglect of the issue. Sigh.

    Meanwhile, back to the answer of the day: the swirling tornado above my car at the intersection of 35W and Lyndale in the Spring of 1983. It was wondrous and terrifying.

    The Grand Canyon is also a great answer which is far less terrifying.

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    1. We had a full contingent of ten Baboons here yesterday for Baboon Book Club, discussing “Broken for You.” Notes of the meeting will be forthcoming. The next time we meet will be on an undefined day in April (this decision was left to tim) at tim’s house. Books: “The Last All Girl Filling Station Reunion” by Fannie Flagg (about women who flew cargo in WWII) or Marge Piercy’s “Gone to Soldiers.”

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  4. Good morning. As one of a relatively small number of people who have studied free living nematodes, I’ve seen a large number of these that no one else has seen. Probably the most unusual nematode I saw was a free living nematode that was parasitized by a nematode. I believe the number of people who have seen a free living nematode parasitized by a nematode is very small. In fact, presently there are very few people who study free living nematodes making a person like me who has studied them a rare individual.

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      1. I am trying to imagine a Far Side cartoon about nematodes. You could have a giant microscope focused on some nematodes in an underground location where they are doing something humorous, perhaps singing “It’s a Small World”. which is said to be a favorite song in the world of nematodes.

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        1. Those nematodes like to ride their nematodecycles. They let the protozoa ride in the sidecars.

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  5. I don’t know what constitutes a rare wonder. Could it be something that I thought was wonderful and was new to me which actually is not rare and has been seen by many people? Beluga whales are not rare and many people have seen them. However, they were a rare wonder, as far as I’m concerned, when I saw a very large group of them in the Hudson Bay near Churchill at the edge of the arctic region of Canada.

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  8. This is a little longer but it does capture my day in the crater. The picture at the 1:23 mark is what I remember best… the clouds “draped” over the edge of the crater. Breathtaking.

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  9. “Rarest wonder?” Oh, my.

    Well, there was that aurora borealis display we saw in June of 1970, the one that looked like a giant Jello mold.

    Or I might mention the courage of my old springer spaniel, Brandy, but that would make no sense to people who didn’t get to witness her heart and tenacity as I did.

    When all is said and done, I think I’ve seen nothing so rare and wonderful as my parent’s love for each other.

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  10. A murmuration of starlings is not rare, but it is a stunning and memorable sight to behold. I’ve seen it in a major way only once in the southern part of Jutland. This video is from England, but I chose it partly because it explains a little about the phenomenon.

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    2. i quit hunting 45 years ago. i used to go out with my dad and my cousins in north dalkota in the fall and love the crisp air and th falling asleep in thee way back of uncle pauls town and country wagon between tom and dan and matt and my brother paul. we would wake up at 2 in the morning and drive out to where we heard the birds were the night before when we asked. you would go into a coffee shop and ask where the birds were. devils lake, oaks, some small town that was a speck on the map and my dad and my uncle would know where the birds were. we would stop along the way and uncle paul would make the troop get out of the wagon and stretch our legs , tak a pee and pick out the snacks that would tide us over until we arrived at our destination. any body want some beef jerky? slim jims? peanuts? lets get a bunch of each. how do you like your coffee tim? a huge offering to a 10 year old. cream and sugar please then we would get into the back end of the wagon again and drive west away from the sunrise in a race to get to the destination before the sun did. we would unload. grab the thermos, the decoys, the waiters, the guns the shells the last few pieces of jerky and headed a half a mile down the trail from the parking spot to the waters edge where we would without speaking get into our waiters and step into the water of the slough where our feet sunk in knee deep in the loon shit bottoms of the slough. out we went to the reeds which grew out of the sides of the sloughs like vertebrata coming off the sides of the slough like box seats in the midst of the arena of geese and ducks to be witnessed for the day. we walked out maybe 15 or 20 minutes into the dark cool water with the boots getting stuck each step and my too small feet pulling out of the boot each step. by the time we got to our station we needed a break, then we would sit and look to my dad and my uncle and say , when are they coming? uncle paul would say, look over there, they will be coming from there and we need to be quiet and ready. sure enough form right where he had pointed the birds would come. geese so thick the sky disappeared and with honks so loud and blanketing that you couldnt believe it. honk honk honk over the top of the honks from the 1000 other honks on teir left wing makes an impression never forgotten. the clip here shows the birds over there… imagine being in the sopot where as the drop their wings and tumble en masse toward the water you are stationed the noise makes you cry to behold the wonder of it all. we would look to uncle paul and he would be wanting us to savor the moment and the geese swam amongst the decoys we set up and we held our breath waiting for the cue.”now” would shout uncle paul as he stood up from his hiding place in the midst of the flock and waved his arms and we would wait for the birds to get up and shoot the one 6 feet in front of you and then shoot another that was leaving the scene and one more as they flew off into the distance. reload and see if maybe a slow one was still in range but no… we would sit back down and wait and one hour late the birds would return and we would sit hunkered down in the reeds and listen to that deafening honk and the beautiful falling canadian and snows would cascade down and down and down like slinkies down the stairs the would fall to the proper level to glide in to the water orange feet first to the spot where the guy at the coffee shop on the west side of fargo told us they would be. i quit hunting at age 16 when i became a vegetarian out of respect for life but i miss being in the midst of the wonders of nature i experienced back in those years. my cousin pat still goes out every year. i will have to ask him to take me and allow me to experience it first hand one more time. one more time.

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  11. Because it’s so fresh from a two-hour documentary last night, I’d have to say an Orca whale. They have more language than humans, keep their young beside them for life, and have entire families of highly social beings. I came away from this program heart-broken at what men have done to and with these magnificent animals. Why do we have to mess with nature (mostly for profit)?????

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  13. Been thinking of this all day and agree that there are plenty of wonders in nature, but haven’t come up with something I consider rare. Till I thought of my mother’s sense of spirit. She’s had a minor stroke this weekend, and I wasn’t sure how she’d be today, but she’s like the Eveready bunny – doesn’t seem to know anything new is amiss, and is just her charming, sweet self – as much as she can be while listing to the left and hearing out of just her right ear. We are very lucky she’s like this.

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