Winter is icummen in

(A classic Wilson Bentley snowflake photo)

In 1902, Ezra Pound wrote a poem called Ancient Music; it was a parody of a classic Anglo-Saxon poem (author unknown) The Cuckoo Song, which is about the arrival of spring. Pound's version

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.

Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.

Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.

Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.

It often seems that we in Detroit are have a British winters--wet, snowy slush, damp and gray. This year we're definitely not having such a miserable excuse for a winter. We had a big snowfall before Thanksgiving; although it all melted away, the temperatures subsequently dropped, have remained reliably below freezing for the past two weeks, and look as though they will stay there for the conceivable future.

Last night the temperatures got into single digit range, and the lake froze over. It's only a thin sheet of ice as yet, but it is ice. No more lovely, slate blue, choppy waves. Just a very flat expanse of ice.

And now it's snowing. The weather service is predicting 5 to 8 inches of snowfall by morning, which means I'll have to get up early to clear it off. The landscape will be all white lumps as I'm trudging off to work tomorrow. Good night all!