The Last Refuge

Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.  Oscar Wilde
Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.  Mark Twain

To-day is a “snow day” and all schools are closed. Well, not so much snow, as black ice caused by freezing rain on the roadways, ice-pellets, and fog.  When the buses are cancelled for safety reasons, the schools often remain open for the walkers, and the teachers who can get to the schools take care of the children for the day. But to-day everything is closed!

Stop the world, I want to get off… an unexpected free day… a day for catching up… marking papers, laundry and ironing, maybe some baking, maybe even an afternoon nap. Somehow the declaration of a snow day is much less exciting for a retired teacher, but I remember well the morning suspense… will they or won’t they?

So here, from the unimaginative to the unimaginative… Wilde was such an arrogant snob… are two pieces about weather:  a tall tale, the dramatic narrative written by Robert Service about the “Cremation of Sam Magee”, and a song of seduction, a love song about taking shelter from a stormy night in “Baby, It’s Cold Out There”.

 

 

 

If you enjoyed the Robert Service poem, this website includes the lyrics, some information about the Yukon, and a link to Johnny Cash. My favourite reading is by Hank Snow, yes “snow”, but I chose the link with the best illustrations.

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