Friday, February 8, 2013

Professor Hale and A New England Winter

Professor Hale is a dear "friend" of mine who...

Of pickles and jams, he’s a connoisseur, you might say
Not strawberry, grape nor blueberry—nay!
Not kosher, dill, sour or sweet;
Not bread and butter nor pickled beets.
No, not pickles and jams of the edible sort,
But sticky situations are his special sport

I have "documented" a number of his sticky situations and  I have been saving them for a collection, but now just seems the right time to share his blizzard experience as told to me.

Professor Hale and a New England Winter
           by Deborah C. Washington

“I grew up in New England where the weather changes on a dime

It can go from sun to rain to snow to hail in record breaking time.

Springtime is lush, green and muddy are the grounds

Summertime fresh veggies and flowers always abound

In autumn the leaves of the trees turn red, yellow and gold

It’s a new treasure every year, an honor to behold.

To survive the winters you have to be of hearty stock

I remember the morning when we woke up to a shock

We thought it was still night as no light shone in

But then we saw the wall of white when we moved the curtain.

We opened the door and were face to face with a tower of snow.

Fortunate for us we had no place to go.

We sat down to breakfast and laughed at the snow.

We were hearty New Englanders and our fear did not show.

After eating and sitting around for a while,

We longed for a glimpse of our neighbor’s smile.

Time to shovel ourselves out, was what we thought

But outside was the new shovel that we had bought.

Trowels, and shovels and buckets and the like

We stored in the shed outside with the bike.

Ladles and spoons were the only tools in our “jail”

So, we dug and tunneled and put the snow in a pail.

We dumped it in the sink and filled it again

And again and again and again and again and again.

We squirmed like worms in our tunnel a few feet high

But we kept on going—for Yankee’s it do or die.

After hours of ladling and spooning our way

We were delighted to hear somebody say

“Hello in there. Are you okay?”

“Why yes we’re fine, How are you today?”

And then our goal was in our sight

Our neighbor’s smile—just before night.

“We’re going back in for now, but for tomorrow

Do you think that shovel we could borrow?”

“Of course” our dear neighbor said

And we crawled our way back home to bed.

The lesson we learned on that blizzard of a day

Bring your shovel in, unless inside you want to stay."

1 comment:


Debby I like your blog and its poetry.ames