The Snow Man

2011's been a crazy, emotional year (aren't they all?), but I'm glad more than ever that I have my journal as a document to prove that, yes, it all happened. As I head into my third calendar year as a blipper, I feel like going all pretentious with a bit of poetry; Wallace Stevens' The Snow Man.


One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.


While you're working that out, I'll wish you a happy new year and sneak out quietly.