Wonderful Winter

People have been saying that winters in Columbus are usually affairs of the 40s and 30s (that is good weather for being out of doors). Now I am not sure they would say that every winter, but some around here now are because we have been fortunate this year in the wintriness of winter. It’s been something like Minnesota, but with more thaws.

In the providence of God, I backed my little Ford Focus into a parked Acura’s alloy wheel and scratched a panel or two. As a result of the estimated $2000 in damages to the SUV inflicted by my little Focus, I put in a claim and am having the Focus cleaned up. So the insurance company gave me a 2014 Nisan Altima, and it turns out an excellent time to be driving a car with perks and conveniences. So it is something of a sugar-coated week: deep winter, extreme sweater weather, snug apartment, best bathtub ever, got book to write, got a difficult Sunday school to prepare for, the wife cooks, the car starts with the push of a button, snow, the cold that makes smoke billow from everything . . .

If I were a pagan my gods would be winter gods.

Winter trees

3 thoughts on “Wonderful Winter

  1. With me anything worthwhile is largely accidental. I don’t draw my things as I should, I don’t have something I’m working toward clearly pictured.

  2. I think that is called “organic form.” It’s how I write my formal poetry. The first thing that comes to you contains within it a tendency toward pattern, which then goes on to suggest and organize the rest. I like it – though I don’t think it is the best thing the world will ever see. I think it answers the Paul Fussell difficulty you wrote about (somewhere) – the thing about the formless poetry being a reaction with nothing left to react against, while the classical forms imply a loyalty to an old order that doesn’t exist anymore for our contemporaries. Who could object to form that expresses the order of the artist’s own mind?

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