by John Mooy
I’m sitting in the comfort of our cottage while the winds howl just outside the window. It’s like being on the set of an old Sgt. Preston movie. I love it.
There is something about experiencing the first snow of the season. It never gets old. Earlier this morning when I got up it was still outside and no snow falling. Later on the intensity of the snow picked up and now it’s a full force gale.
I’m certain all of us have so many stories of snow it could make for a wonderful evening of storytelling maybe while seated around a fireplace somewhere. As kids the term we often heard before going outside was “bundle up.” And the words we didn’t want to hear at the end of the day, “time to come in.”
To combat the cold, we did everything from wearing long underwear to putting on multiple layers of clothing. I recall times coming into the house when I could hardly move because my outer layer of clothes was frozen solid.
Then there were the times when Marcellus and the surrounding countryside was covered with snow and no one had yet driven down the roads or gone across any of the fields. It looked like a Norman Rockwell painting. And winter can give us a silence like no other season of the year.
While winter requires a certain level of preparation to ensure safety and the extra time putting on the proper apparel, it is a season I think most of us enjoy at some level. No one can deny its beauty. Especially if you’re inside your house looking out. If you’ve been around long enough you have an idea of where the snow will accumulate and where it won’t.
And just south of Marcellus between the house where Jennie Stern lived and the VFW building was where the sliding area known to all of us as “the hill,” was located. I’ve driven by there so many times in my adulthood and marveled at how small it now seems. During all the times when we would ride on our sleds from the top of the hill to the bottom it seemed as if we were careening down the side of the mountain. There were multiple ways to enjoy the ride. From the sleds to saucers, toboggans and skis, we would fly down the hill and then go to the side of the hill to trudge back up for another run.
There is a myriad of beautiful art works that happen when the snow falls. I have a piece of sculpture just outside the window that is a large hawk which now looks as if it’s sporting a white topcoat. And the trees with snow on the branches give them a bit of a white frosted look which I find to be stunning.
I noticed that two of the large relief pieces in slate that I’m working on received a slight dusting of snow and as a result created white outlines around the subjects, one a bald eagle (pictured here) and the other a pair of ravens. Only Mother Nature could create these delicate highlights.
And still vivid in my mind from years gone by was that message we hoped to hear while huddled around the radio, “Marcellus schools, closed today.” For a youngster, winter sometimes makes wishes come true.
Now let’s bundle up and go outside.
Have a great day, Marcellus.
You’re the best.
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