This winter, here in Minnesota, we’ve been reminded that March, even with climate change, can still be full-on winter.
All that snow was pretty and now I am so ready to be done with winter—snow shovels, gloves, boots, hats.
But as I pack away my winter poems, I’m reluctant to let go a few favorites, ones that always seem to spark winter conversations and memories with older adults I work with, especially when combined with a few photos of winter scenes—historic blizzards in particular stir up a lot of conversation and memories.
In particular this pair of poems—-featuring heating and how we used to heat our houses— and who did the work to keep that heat coming—are often fruitful for stirring up memories and stories:
Marge Percy, “The Air Smelled Dirty”
Robert Hayden, “Those Winter Sundays”
Lots of folks remember the coal chute, but the stories range widely, a few gems:
parents’ taking a break from shoveling to show a child how to make a snowball (and start a snowball fight, and —more importantly—enjoy life),
cutting peat for heating fuel,
trying to jimmy coins out of a British bedsit gas meter.
The Hayden poem also often leads to interesting conversations about how little of our parents’ own lives we sometimes understood when we were children…
So I won’t miss the end of winter, but I will miss the winter stories these poems kick up.
PS—
Here are some resources for finding your own favorite winter poems:
Let me know your favorites and what connects you to them…
PPS–
And if you find too many gloomy winter poems, for a lighter mood check out: