Every day, a photograph, a poem.
I moved to Spokane, WA from Bismarck, North Dakota in March, 1971. It was still cold, snowy, icy and ugly in Bismarck, but to my delight, it was only raining in Spokane.
And the next winter– in late December, the first snow fell in Spokane. And I mean– it fell.
It did not blow and bite your face.
It did not swirl and twirl and drift into everything standing.
It fell. And fell. And fell.
In huge snowflakes you could twirl and close your eyes and hold your mittened hands out and open your mouth and catch the lovely snowflakes– examine them, appreciate each unique beauty.
It kept falling. and falling. higher and higher it piled.
Yes— in soft piles of snow to tromp onto and fall back into and make snow angel after snow angel.
Yes– on tree limbs, on porch benches, on fences. Tall piles of soft and lovely white snow that gently kissed your face.
I had never seen that before.
And so, a poem…
Something I’d Never Seen
Midwest snow drifts in upon the wind
Blown on and on along the horizon
And packed against everything standing.
West coast snow in flakes large enough to catchSheri Edwards
Falls and falls in piles and piles, higher and higher
Something this midwest girl had never seen!