somehow missing humidity

I have a distinct talent for wishing for winter all summer and summer all winter. Today, we had real snowfall in DC, a rare and strange surprise. There was no sign of it by mid-afternoon, but the office felt like the inside of a snowglobe this morning.

Are we serious about this right now?

A post shared by Brigid (@br1gid) on

I think my Midwestern roots have taught me how to conjure up a physical memory summer even when — especially when — the snow is flying. Tim Nolan is a poet from Minneapolis, and the poem below is proof he gets it.

Long Winter – Tim Nolan

So much I’ve forgotten
the grass
the birds
the close insects

the shoot—the drip
the spray of the sprinkler
freckles—strawberries—
the heat of the Sun

the impossible
humidity

the flush of your face
so much
the high noon
the high grass

the patio ice cubes
the barbeque

the buzz of them—
the insects

the weeds—the dear
weeds—that grow

like alien life forms—
all Dr. Suessy and odd—

here we go again¬—
we are turning around

again—this will all
happen over again—

and again—it will

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