It snowed here yesterday afternoon - all afternoon, and while there was not much accumulation, the ground did turn white and the birds all flocked to the feeder as if it would be there last opportunity to snarf down the life-sustaining birdseed before winter overtook them.
The snow brings hardships, but it also ushers in a great deal of beauty. My little farm looked like something straight out of Currier and Ives.
Today's poem, "The First Snowfall" by 19th century American poet James Russell Lowell, depicts a father discussing snow with his daughter while another daughter, one who has seemingly been dead for some time, lies buried in a little grave that is disappearing under the falling snow. Even though the verse is a bit morose, Lowell offers a beautiful image of the accumulating snow.
The First Snowfall
by James Russell Lowell