A new chain link fence has sprung up around the canal banks. It looks terrible and serves only to detract from the beauty that is this park.
My bench has changed. It’s not the old fashioned bench with slats that reminded me of my grandparents. Now its two lackluster boards painted blue sitting on a metal frame. Even the paint can’t hide the fact that this bench is nowhere near as inviting as my old one. It’s not my bench anymore. It’s only a bench. I’ve been betrayed.
More snow seeps into my shoes, darkening my light purple socks. I probably should have changed out of my work clothes for this venture, but I was too eager to see my place covered in snow.
The park is silent save for the slight, dull thump of the rain sinking into the park’s coverlet. Even the sound of my sniffing is deadened.
The rain is jealous of the snow because of its beauty and serenity. It’s working hard to erase the creamy bane of its existence, pummeling it with its tiny fists, willing it to go away. Snow can settle lightly on trees and make over twiggy maples so they look stunning. It coats this bench with a soggy seat cushion. It deadens sound and softly kisses upturned faces. Rain can’t settle gracefully on small branches. It weighs them down and saddens their complexion. Its bulbous drops strike the ground instead of floating lazily on the wind.
The rain has already destroyed the snow that perched on the treetops and now it’s working on my bench. It’s pelting my head, trying to make me understand its plight and sympathize. Instead I tuck my head and run away from its pestering, trying not to skid on the snow-covered slats of the foot bridge as I rush home, eager to be warm.
Jana,
ReplyDeleteYour park bench - wow. It's hard to imagine something so common and inanimate conjuring such strong feelings, and yet sometimes that's all it takes. It's really stirring how you've articulated those feelings. Well done. Like Idaho, Pennsylvania often bears what we call "the wintry mix" -- snow, fallen or falling, suffering because of rain. The imagery is totally accurate: the crippling effects of snow are redeemed by its beauty; the dreary effects of rain are redeemed by its relative harmlessness; the combination of both cancels out all redeeming qualities and makes a depressing mess of a blanket.
The only assigned writer I can think of who comes close to conjuring the emotions you do is Sanders, but his melancholy leans more toward mourning; yours, even with the references to your grandparents and the skier's memorial, feels hollow and desolate precisely because of the weather. It's successful, but in a different way.
-- Steve W.
This entry evokes a compelling sense of tension, one which seems grounded in something far deeper than just the falling snow and a dissatisfying park bench. I hope you'll explore those tensions.
ReplyDelete"The rain is jealous of the snow because of its beauty and serenity. It’s working hard to erase the creamy bane of its existence, pummeling it with its tiny fists, willing it to go away. Snow can settle lightly on trees and make over twiggy maples so they look stunning. It coats this bench with a soggy seat cushion. It deadens sound and softly kisses upturned faces. Rain can’t settle gracefully on small branches. It weighs them down and saddens their complexion. Its bulbous drops strike the ground instead of floating lazily on the wind."
ReplyDeleteThat is beautiful.
I missed your first place blog, so your beginning was a great hook. What a cool thing to find in your place, and to focus on and go with throughout.
I love the way you personify snow and rain. It reminds me of Ray's memoir. There is definitely conflict here. You write that you were excited to see your place covered in snow, but you seem unhappy with it. Your bench is changed, and the rain has taken over. This is really beautiful. I'm curious though...why is the bench different? It's interesting,too, that you bring up Jason again. I guess it would be hard not to notice if his memorial is right beside you. I can't wait to read more.
ReplyDeleteJana--
ReplyDeleteYour description/personification of the rain and the snow is beautiful! Although I love both the rain and the snow (well, only warm rain, not rain in wintertime), I appreciate the comparative descriptions you gave for each--and I think they're not only beautiful, but accurate. Also, you've captured/conveyed your feelings associated with your place and with those forms of precipitation. Precipitation largely goes by unnoticed, or rather, under- or unappreciated. I don't think you missed a drop while reflecting on yourself and your place. Very well done!
--Jen