Silent Snow

Looking Back at February

Greetings!

Here in New Hampshire, we have been getting a lot of snow this winter, which has put me in mind of “Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence. This poem captures the sense of foreboding that the silence of snow can convey. Paradoxically, the silence of snow can also feel comforting, as if, for a brief time, there is no strife in the world.

“Winter-Lull”

Based on the 1919 publication date, I interpreted the setting for “Winter-Lull” as a World War I battlefield. I found a digitized copy of Bay, the collection in which “Winter-Lull appears, which seems to confirm this interpretation. In the collection, “Winter-Lull” is preceded by “On the March” and “Bombardment,” and followed by “The Attack.”

Image: Poetry Collection Bay, Public Domain

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 13, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.

Enosburg Stories

The following excerpt is from my unpublished short story, “A Calm Disbelief.” The scene is based on an experience I had with my father in the aftermath of a bad snowstorm. I will include this story in my next book, a short story collection titled Enosburg Stories.

“She felt an automatic nudge of fear in her stomach. She had once witnessed a horrific car accident in the winter. She and John had been driving to Coös County the day after a storm to visit friends. The morning was clear, the road and the dark woods beyond it sharply-defined. About a quarter of a mile up the road, a snowplow had just come into a curve, sending up a continuous plume of snow. For a brief moment, the curve hid the snowplow and as she watched the plume of snow arc evenly into the air, two cars emerged from it and began to skid; she watched as they slid into each other, spun, and stopped, the snowplow behind them. The accident was beautiful, the gentle curve of the road, the white plume of snow, the two cars slowly, gracefully sliding into each other. And all of it without sound; that had been the most beautiful and horrific of all. When John stopped and they ran across the road to the accident, she was relieved to see an old man stumble out of one of the smashed cars, sobbing, his face running blood and dirt and melting snow.”

I did a major revision of this story, getting rid of half of it, after a literary magazine editor told me that it read like a novel chapter, not a stand-alone short story. I’m very appreciative that the editor took the time to write this personal note when they rejected the story. I had no idea!

One Last Snow Connection (I Promise!)

Image Credit: Enosburgh Historical Society

Since my last newsletter, I wrote a new story for Enosburg Stories, titled “Mabel in the Perley Block,” which involves more snow. Whew!

---

Until next time—

Take good care,

Liz