THEME THURSDAY: SNOW




One of the most vivid memories of snow for me comes from the first moment I read of Lucy Pevensey, stepping further up and further in, into the wardrobe and through the snow laden mystical world of Narnia. As a young girl first becoming introduced to the brilliant C.S. Lewis’ mystical imaginative story, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, I felt Lucy’s wonder, her fascination, and marvel as she looked beyond the fur coats, to the hemlocks adorned with weighty white heavenly powder. Through Lewis’ words, I could feel the cold wind on her face as she moved through the woods to reveal the world that would be forever winter.

Lewis’ inspiration is said to have been a desire to see his beloved County Down covered in snow, therefore, he imagined it was so through the pages of his Chronicles. Though the world of Narnia was under a curse to be forever winter, I see this present season of snow as a blessing- a time to question and explore one’s thoughts fantasies and imagination. Whilst often bound indoors, my mind is pressed to explore hidden ideas, welcoming fantastic realms that are often hidden from plain view in the midst of the warmth of summertime and its outdoor reverie. Snow –filled evenings woo me to settle indoors in front of the fire, with little more than my soul for companionship, to explore places in my mind which have been untapped, to create, to love, and to dream…..




Snow
Lyrics by Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)
Music by Loreena McKennitt

White are the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree,
Falls down scarce audibly.

The road before me smoothes and fills
Apace, and all ahout
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.

The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.

Save when at lonely intervals
Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,
With rustling runners and sharp bells
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear.

The barking of a dog, or call
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far afield;

Then all is silent and the snow falls
Settling soft and slow.
The evening deepens and the grey
Folds closer earth and sky
The world seems shrouded, far away.

Its noises sleep, and I as secret as
Yon buried stream plod dumbly on and dream.