[lit-ideas] Re: Poetry x 2 = Sabbatical

  • From: JimKandJulieB@xxxxxxx
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 15 Oct 2006 18:30:17 EDT

Snow is beautiful for the first 15 minutes that it falls.
After that, it is evil.
It becomes black and slushy from the driving, you have to scrape and de-ice  
the car, wade through it to the tarp-covered wood-pile to feed the  
woodstove....etc.  I hate winter.  New Zealand.  If I ever come  into money 
it's New 
Zealand for me.
Michael, my bro living in NY, adores snow and winter.  A wonder since  when 
HE went sledding he ran smack head-on into a tree, was taken to the  hospital, 
and hurt his back badly.  But then, he's a dare-devil.
Julie Krueger

========Original  Message========     Subj: [lit-ideas] Re: Poetry x 2 = 
Sabbatical  Date: 10/15/2006 3:28:41 P.M. Central Standard Time  From: 
_judithevans1@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:judithevans1@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   To: 
_lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   Sent on:    
I lived in the depths of Carmarthenshire for five  childhood
years.  Snow every Christmas, sledding in the hills.  But  nothing
as daring as your hill rides.

I love snow too but these days  it can be a nuisance

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Eric  Yost" <eyost1132@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To:  <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Sunday, October 15, 2006 9:19  PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: Poetry x 2 = Sabbatical

> Why I  love snow: I grew up in a house alongside a two-mile
> hill. It used to be  an important road but was closed in the
> 1940s when a modern road was  built elsewhere. In winter, the
> entire two-mile stretch would get  covered with ice and snow.
> When I was a kid, we'd take our sleds up to  the very top of
> the hill and fly down at ridiculous  speeds.
> Nearing the town below, we'd have to crash the sleds  into a
> snowbank or we'd cross traffic intersections. There were  two
> ways to crash: you could roll off the sled at the last
>  moment, the sled would hit the snowbank, and sometimes fly
> into the air;  or you could stay on the sled and hope your
> weight would keep the sled  level so it would penetrate the
> snowbank right, and the rider would fly  up into the air and
> land on the other side of the  snowbank.
> The beauty of sledding, the sharp turns in the road,  the
> crisp cold, the almost heroic ending of the ride -- these
>  stick in mind as some of the most exciting moments of my
>  childhood.
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