I’m feeling severely uninspired this morning. I think the thick fog outside has crawled into my ears and dampened my thoughts. Somewhere in my muddled mind I know there’s something important I could be writing about. I could talk about mining or the atrocity that is Buckwild or Appalachian culture or anything. But the nightly cobwebs have yet to clear from my mind and my muse has left a sign on the door that reads “Gone Fishing.” I hope it reels in a decent idea—and soon.
One of these days, my teacher is going to realize that no worthy piece of writing can be crafted first thing in the morning. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I’ve made this complaint before. And the truly unfortunate part of this whole thing is that I actually had a good idea for something to write about earlier in the week. I wrote it in my notebook—which is taking a nap in my locker on the third floor.
After reading my laments over lost muse, Mr. B has suggested writing about how the mountains produced this terrible fog that even now is as thick as proverbial pea soup and that may have contributed to the layer of ice over everything in town. I myself fell victim to this invisible predator. It was lurking on my steps this morning. Blinded by the fog, I didn’t see it until it leaped up, got under my feet like a cat, and sent me sliding down the stairs. Then I had to get up and skate my way to the car, where I collapsed into the chilly interior and nursed my wounded pride. And my injured leg. Which still aches. Just saying.
At least I was lucky enough to be forewarned about the presence of the ice. My mom came shuffling out of her bedroom this morning, twenty minutes after I had tried unsuccessfully to wake her up, dressed in her fuzzy robe with her dog in one arm, and proclaimed that there had already been several accidents due to the slippery roads. When confronted with raised eyebrows, she added that she had heard it on the radio while in her semi-conscious state. They say knowledge is power. Today, it didn’t do us much good.
--Written Thursday, 1/10
So last week I was lamenting the not-so-pleasant weather. This week I’m lamenting that we’re back to icky coldness after a wonderfully warm weekend. I didn’t care that there wasn’t any sun. I wasn’t even bothered by the fact it was supposed to rain. Because for two days, it was deliciously warm. Warm enough that I only needed a light jacket. Warmer outside than inside the house. Warm enough that I could take a walk without my frozen nose dropping off my face, where it would shatter on the ground.
I love West Virginia. I really do. But I cannot describe to you how much I hate winters in the mountains. It’s pretty and pristine and glimmering and pure and blindingly white—and it’s also colder than the pits of Tartarus. And I don’t do cold. At all.
Suffice it to say I am more than ready to shake off the winter chill and dive into summer. Maybe when it warms up, my muse will let me go fishing with it…
--Completed Monday, 1/14
--J
6 comments:
The weekend was amazing! I loved how, in the middle of January, we were outside grilling chicken for dinner. It was great that I opened the windows and had some sweet-smelling fresh air in my room. It definately gave me spring fever, and I honestly feel your pain about wanting warmer weather!
I agree that it is hard to write first thing in the morning. The weather in West Virginia is very unpredictable at times, seeing how over the weekend it was 60 and sunny and now we are back to 35 degrees with a chance of a "wintry mix." While I did enjoy the warm weather, I need to see some snow before spring arrives. I'm so used to seeing snow in January and February, but in recent years that snowfall has been limited. I don't mind the cold weather, but having 60 degree weather in the middle of January in West Virginia is a bit ridiculous.
-C
Bitingly cold mountain winters are what make Appalachians (especially West Virginians) such a hardy people. I for one enjoy the fog, and ice, and snow. They prove that some things cannot be conquered.
And yet, people seem to be working harder than ever to conquer them. Since the locks and dams have gone on the Monongahela River, how many years has the river frozen over? Not very many. Before the locks, the river was shallow enough in the winter to freeze solid and provide a safe, if slippery, passage across. With the rise in global temperatures, we have lost the cold winters too. The old deep freezes killed many insects, like disease-carrying mosquitoes. Summers can only get hotter, dryer, and buggy-er from here.
Our winters are part of our lives. If you can't handle them, maybe think of living somewhere warmer?
Let's see if I can respond to all three comments in one comment of my own without confusing anyone...
To Anonymous (1st comment): We're out of grill gas or we definitely would have been grilling up some steaks. We pulled down the glass on our screen door and just let the air flow. It was actually warmer outside than inside the house at one point!!
To C: I like snow--as long as I don't have to be outside in it. I will admit that I missed having a white Christmas. I wish for one every year, and yet it never seems to happen. The weather in the past few years has been kind of wonky. I really wish it would just choose to be cold or warm instead of taunting us for 3+ months.
To Anonymous (3rd comment): I've never seen the Monongahela River freeze. It's been dammed as long as I can remember, so I can't really pass judgement on that. I know that the cold kills a lot of the icky stuff out there. My parents complain about it almost every summer when the bugs and summer colds comes around. I would love to spend winters somewhere warmer (which probably won't ever happen, so we'll speak hypothetically here), because I really dislike the cold, but I'd like to be able to come back and spend my summers in the mountains.
Last weekend was amazing! I felt like spring had arrived in January! Ever since, the weather has been pretty miserable and I understand how you feel. I love the cold and snow of winter but the fog, freezing rain, and ice I could live without. I guess you can't have one without the other eventually showing up.Hey, at least you wrote about something!(:
Dear Anonymous,
Perhaps you didn't understand that the writer is a high school student. Choosing to love it or leave it is generally not an option afforded to minor children. I agree that enduring the dark gray days of winter gives a special appreciation for blue skies and the beauty of spring and summer. However, I challenge you to observe the behavior of others when it has been days since the sun has been seen. It certainly does bring out a less jovial side of people's psyche.
-MB
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