January 28, 2008
Snowbird
…listen
…about the musicTweet tweet.
It’s not uncommon for islanders to head south for the winter months and join the other snowbirds, even though the season here is very temperate. Most days are in the low to mid forties, dipping into the 30’s at night. There isn’t the bitter cold of the Minnesotan or New York winters that Charles and I grew up enduring. The air here is crisp and fresh and pure and invigorating, and tromping around outside to chop wood or spread birdseed is a joy. This dark-eyed junco is especially pleased that I feel this way. It rarely snows and when it does, the powdery fluff is gone within hours, melted into a memory.
But yesterday as I was headed home from Seattle, it did indeed snow on San Juan Island– and the snow stuck! A couple of very pretty inches that have turned everything in view into a work of art. I’m loving all phases of winter here and can’t imagine why others flee for Arizona, Florida, the Caribbean, Mexico, Hawaii and Central America. Ok, well, I can– but I’m so completely at home in this, that staying here seems like a vacation in and of itself. The weather here is so much better than where I grew up. Is there a word for feeling even more at home than where your original home was?
Glenn Buttkus said,
January 29, 2008 @ 6:31 am
Wow, that 45 seconds of The White Horse got my mojo cranked up this morning. Since I detest snow, having to drive into the terrors of traffic, negotiate icy sheer hills, and bounce over drifts to make it to work, I am both amazed and pleased to find that little girl in you, Alex–the one who plays in the fluff and still loves her birds. This is for you:
SNOWS OF THE SAN JUANS
The white horse
neath her white blaze
on a white day,
fetlocks deep
in the fluff,
stood calmly
in the deep snow,
white on white,
and her magnificent tail
swished the icy air
like a conductors baton
as her pink-blue eyes
saw me
there
too,
in my white snow suit,
behind my white and green scarf,
neath my foolish white and red woolen cap,
with slender white fingertips
clicking and clicking
the imaginary pic
that would ulitmately cue
that wonderful trick
of somehow finding
the music;
uprooting it,
holding it aloft,
filling the air with it;
for I must always
salve my imagination,
soothe my emotions,
stroke the tiny forehead
of my inner child,
to provide the much needed
sustenance
to my Muse,
who always seems
to be hungry.
Glenn Buttkus 2008
And many thanks for your epic poetry as well:
TWEET TWEET
ONE
It’s not uncommon
for islanders
to head south
for the winter months
and join the other
snowbirds;
even though
the season here
is very temperate.
Most days
are in the low
to mid forties,
dipping
into the thirties
at night.
There isn’t
the bitter cold
of the Minnesotan
or New York
winters
that Charles and I
grew up
enduring.
The air here
is crisp and fresh and pure
and invigorating,
and tromping around
outside
to chop wood
or spread birdseed
is a joy.
The dark-eyed Junco
is especially pleased
that I feel this way.
It rarely snows,
and when it does,
the powdery fluff
is gone
within hours,
melted into memory.
TWO
But yesterday
as I headed Home
from Seattle,
it did indeed snow
on San Juan Island–
and the snow
stuck!
A couple of very pretty inches
that have turned
everything in view
into a work of art.
I’m loving all phases
of winter here
and can’t imagine
why
others flee
for Arizona, Florida, the Caribbean,
Mexico, Hawaii, and Central America.
Ok,
well
I can-
but I am so
completely at Home
in this,
that staying here
seems
like a vacation
and and of
itself.
The weather here
is much better
than where I
grew up.
Is there a word
for feeling
even more at Home
than where
your original home
was?
Alex Shapiro January 2008
What a day, what a morning for crispness in our lungs and poetry in our hearts, enit?
Glenn
Glenn Buttkus said,
January 29, 2008 @ 7:12 am
Earlier this morning I wrote an “extended” comment that had a little poem dedicated to you, and lots of good stuff in it. When I hit “Submit Comment” it just disappeared. I hope it ended up in your cyber lap somehow. If it didn’t, I will try, in my way, to recapitulate the essence of the piece later. Nice you made it home safe from the wilds of Seattle. Nice that you met Doug Palmer and attended the performance of his Violin Duet. Nice that you like the snow on your island. Let me know if my “other” comment made it through the technical morass of cyberness.
Glenn
Glenn Buttkus said,
January 29, 2008 @ 7:56 am
Well I got restless before my first student arrived this morning, so I went to my own blog and wrote a piece called SNOW GIRL OF THE SAN JUANS. I tried, in my way, to be free (Sorry Leonard), and endeavored to recapture the passion of my “lost comment”
Here is the heart of it:
Then, in her way, she posted a wonderful picture of the bird in the fluff snow, and posted some of her music to illustrate the illustrate, or to illuminate it, or to underscore it. The piece was The White Horse. It was 45 seconds of bliss, part Celtic, part jazz, all Alex. I wrote a little piece of free verse as a response to her music.
SNOWS OF SAN JUAN
The white horse,
wearing
a white blaze,
not completely white,
but nearly,
stood,
on a white day moment,
in the snow,
fetlock deep
in the fluff,
white on white;
and its magnificent tail
swished like a
conductor’s baton,
humming in the crisp air,
the equus concerto,
as her pink-blue eyes
saw me
there;
In my white snow suit,
behind my white and green scarf,
neath my silly white and red woolen hat,
with my slender white fingertips
clicking and clicking
the imaginary pic
that would cue
that wonderful trick
of finding
the music;
for it must be
done
to salve my imagination,
to soothe my emotions,
to calm
the euphoria deep
in my chest,
and to provide
the necessary sustenance
for my Muse,
who is always,
it seems
hungry.
Glenn Buttkus 2008
Then I thanked her for her epic poem that I clearly read in my mind as I read her prose. It went something like this:
TWEET TWEET
ONE
It’s not uncommon
for islanders
to head south
for the winter months
and join the other
snowbirds;
even though
the season here
is very temperate.
Most days
are in the low
to mid-forties,
dipping
into the thirties
at night.
There isn’t
the bitter cold
of the Minnesotan
or New York
winters
that Charles and I
grew up
enduring.
The air here
is crisp and fresh and pure
and invigorating,
and tromping around
outside
to chop wood
or spread birdseed
is a joy.
The dark-eyed Junco
is especially pleased
that I feel
this way.
It rarely snows,
and when it does,
the powdery fluff
is gone
within hours,
melted into a
memory.
TWO
But yesterday
as I was headed Home
from Seattle,
it did indeed
snow
on San Juan Island–
and the snow
stuck!
A couple of pretty inches
that have turned everything
in view,
into a work
of art.
I’m loving
all phases of
winter
here,
and can’t imagine
why
others flee
for Arizona, Florida, the Caribbean,
Mexico, Hawaii, and Central Amerca.
Ok,
well,
I can–
but I’m so completely
at Home
in this,
that staying here
seems
like a vacation
in and of
itself.
The weather here
is so much
better
than where
I grew up.
Is there a word
for feeling
even more at Home
than where
your original home
was?
Alex Shapiro January 2008
There probably is such a word, dear lady, but it is spoken only by the wind in whispers, rattling your warm windows late at night, interupting your dreams, becoming your dreams, wrapping you like silk, sitting, lying quietly, watching you sleep, hoping you will wake soon and come out and play.
Glenn Buttkus
Alex Shapiro said,
January 29, 2008 @ 2:03 pm
A Buttkus Bonanza! Thanks for your perseverance, Glenn– just lovely!
We all need to play in the snow….
Mike Wills said,
January 30, 2008 @ 10:20 am
Good afternoon, Alex…
The best I can do for your question is two words:
You are an “acquired indigene”. I am sure there is a biological term. For example, the purple loosestrife, a transplant from Europe, is described as an invasive species. Not the meaning we are looking for..
************************
My personal news relevant to San Juan Island..my son, Sean, is planning an ascent (in your neighborhood) of Mt. Ranier in July 2008. He and I plan to climb Mt Marcy (the tallest peak in New York State) in late March by way of his training. Sean will carry a 60 pound pack and that might allow me to keep up.
I planning a trip back to the Superstition Wilderness of Arizona, earlier in March. You can see my latest blog from a 2005 Superstition trip..here….
http://www.myspace.com/TheOneAndOnlyPhotoMaker
All the best!!
Mike