"Winter"

 

Sydney M. Williams

30 Bokum Road – Apartment 314

Essex, CT 06426

 

Essays from Essex

“Winter”

November 13, 2021

 

“The summer days are over and the fields are waving gold,

The days are getting’ shorter and the nights are turning cold;

Autumn is a lonesome time when the year begins to wane,

But I’m eagerly awaiting those winter nights again.”

                                                                                            “Long Winter Nights,” 1989

                                                                                                                     Tommy Makem (1932-2007)

                                                                                                                      Irish Folk Musician

 

Winter in Connecticut will arrive at 10:59 am on December 21, probably after we see our first snowflakes. Those first flurries are harbingers of winter. In “A Winter Eden,” Robert Frost wrote about snowfall: “It lifts existence on a plane of snow/One level higher than the earth below/One level nearer heaven overhead…” Our first snow usually arrives in November, a transition month that marks the change from Autumn’s glorious foliage to winter’s leafless (but not lifeless) branches. As the first snow falls, children catch flakes in mittened hands, each appearing to be unique, an imagery spoiled by scientists who have determined there are only thirty-five unique crystals or flakes[1].

 

When I was young, before the onset of winter, seasonal chores had to be performed: Snow tires were placed on the car’s rear wheels, with chains easily accessible. Its radiator was topped off with antifreeze. The woodshed was filled with logs and kindling. Chimneys were swept and stove pipes and fireplaces cleaned. The coal-burning furnace was readied, and the bin filled. Insulating autumn leaves were banked against the house’s foundation. Flashlight batteries and candles were replaced. Winter clothes were taken out of moth balled-filled closets. Skis were waxed and steel edges sharpened.

 

Preparation is easier today. With all-weather tires there is no need for snow tires. A 50/50 water/coolant in radiators means less need to add antifreeze. Gas and electric fireplaces are replacing wood-burning ones. In 1940, 75% of homes in the U.S. were heated with wood or coal; today, the number is less than two percent. Mothballs have given way to cedar-lined closets. Today, we exchange a polo shirt for a sweater, a light jacket for a parka, a baseball cap with a wool hat. While wood is still the core of most skis, the use of carbon fiber or aluminum alloys and plastic bottoms have obviated the need for steel edges and waxes.

 

Perhaps it is because I was born on a January afternoon in New Haven, but winters have always been special. It may be because one of my earliest memories was Christmas 1944, with my father about to sail to Italy with the 10^th Mountain Division. We were in Madison, Connecticut, with our mother and her parents. Among my gifts that year was a pair of skis, suitable for the eldest son (about to turn four) of a Ski Trooper.  Or my love of winter could be because skiing became my favorite sport. But it may be because I met my wife on a cold, sunny day on New Hampshire’s Temple Mountain, on December 31^st, 1961; and ten weeks later, still in winter, she agreed to become my wife.

 

No longer skiing, I enjoy a walk through the woods, if the snow is not too deep. Snow hushes footfalls and many animals sleep through the winter. Most birds are in winter quarters. Leafless trees are soundless in a gentle breeze. The silence is audible. Yet life is all around. Roots provide nutrition to trees above. A hawk alights on a branch in Mud River Swamp. Tracks show that a rabbit preceded me down the path.     

 

I love winter, but a long season of short, cold days make one yearn for warmer ones. Winter prepares us for spring’s birth. “Winter will pass,” said Charlotte speaking to Wilbur in E.B. White’s eponymous story, “the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur – this lovely world, these precious days…” Spring days will come for all of us. Days will lengthen as we pass through January and February. By March we will be looking forward to spring’s return – listening to songbirds and peepers as they herald a new season, observing turtles as shells harden in the sun, smelling blossoms as they wave to us, and eyeing a shy garter snake as it makes its way through the grass.

 

Winter clothes will be packed; sneakers will replace boots, as we walk along trails once covered with snow.