The Art of Winter

Sometimes nature's beauty can go unnoticed.
The ice on the window is obvious, but did
you notice the ice forming on the wild
grass at the left edge of the photo?

Winter is a treacherous time of year for people who spend a majority of their time working outdoors.  Whether driving or walking, danger abounds for those folks whose attention span wanes.  Ice on the roadways or ice on the sidewalks – take your pick, there’s always the potential for trouble just around the bend.

Take for instance what my wife and I do for a living:  delivering the mail.  People have a romantic view of us in the warmth of the summer sun, wearing comfortable shorts and skipping merrily through the neighborhood amidst the chirping birds and chattering squirrels.  “You must have the best job in the world” a number of folks will say.  Yet I never hear anything like this from these same people from November to April.  As a matter of fact, I rarely ever SEE these people.  Why?  Because being intelligent people, they’re indoors where it’s warm and dry!

When I first started the mailman racket, I had a walking route in Boise’s “North End”.  One street, Harrison Boulevard, is split in the middle with a strip of grass and trees that run the length of the road.  In the springtime these trees bloom with pink or white flowers and would make a great picture-postcard of this historic street.  But this isn’t about springtime, is it?  Nope.  Back to winter.  Bare trees, and ice on the roads.

As I was delivering the mail one December morning, I had to cross Harrison Boulevard to continue delivery and work my way back toward my truck.  Just as I got to the center of the road (sometimes a major feat in itself because of the seemingly constant flow of traffic) I managed to find a patch of ice that was at just the right angle.  And by “right” I of course mean “wrong”.

In a less than graceful move that could best be described to you as slipping on a banana peel, I found myself flat on my back with a pile of letters fluttering through the air, landing on top of me.  Bad enough to be taking a short time-out in the ice and snow, but unfortunately the people driving by had a front-row view of my misfortune.  To make matters worse, several of them were honking and waving as they drove by.  One clown had the joyful idea to roll his window down and shout, “Nice job!”

Sadly, that same guy died on Christmas Eve when he choked on a fruitcake.  Or at least if I got my Christmas wish that year, he did.  I guess I’ll never really know.

I was reminded about this little incident from the mid 80’s because just last week I once again had the opportunity to get a little closer to Mother Earth.  My current route is situated at the base of, and upon, some of Boise’s foothills.  One street gets a little on the slick side every winter, and never sees the sun during the winter months.  It also rarely gets any sanding from the city because it’s a dead-end street that doesn’t have a lot of traffic.  Consequently this street gets slicker than snot.

At the very end of the street sits a house on top of a slope that is impossible for me to drive to the mailbox safely in the winter, so I get out and try to walk up instead.  This house once belonged to “Morley” Nelson, and rather than tell you about him now, I’d suggest you visit this website to get a better understanding of the man. 

After placing the mail in the mailbox, I turned to walk back down to the truck and suddenly found myself flat on my back  (just like 30 years before) sliding back down to where the truck was parked.  This was actually the faster way back to the truck, and I should remember to use this technique in the future to cut down on my delivery time!

But what about “The Art of Winter”?  That was the title of this piece of… uh… literature.  Well, for starters, take a look at (or click on) the photo at the top of this article.  Notice the way ice has formed around the window on this house, and clings to the wild grasses growing in front of the home.  I get to see displays like this all during the winter months, whenever the conditions come together to create the proper conditions.

Not all icicles are found in town.
These cliff-dwelling icicles were spotted 15 years
ago alongside the road to Garden Valley, Idaho.

Don’t forget about icicles that form from the eaves of houses or any other spot where there is enough heat during the day to cause a slow melt and then enough cold air to refreeze the water as it trickles downward toward the ground.  Some are tiny and delicate, while others tend to get so big they resemble a lance that a medieval knight would carry when jousting with an opponent.

There are nights when the air is damp but still, and frost crystals form on everything from twigs on the trees to the wire in a chain link fence.  They project outward from everything they form on like millions of icy little fingers, reaching for something that can’t be seen through the eyes of mortals.  There’s that brief moment when the sun comes out and lights up these fuzzy little ice formations, and then they melt away – gone from view, but not from memory.

There is so much beauty in the world, no matter what the season.  You just need to be out in the world enough to actually experience it. You just need to go outside long enough to really experience the joys of nature.  It’s there for you, waiting to be enjoyed, no matter what your position in life is… even like me, especially when I find my position is laying flat on my back!