wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.

Category Archives: Weather


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Pea Soup

Now who would have thought that the sky could turn soupy?

As thick as pea soup, some would say,

When walking in woods, it can make you quite loopy,

A labyrinth fumble, all day.

The walnut is steadfast, its roots in the ground,

Some shivery leaves holding tight,

It sighs and gives thanks that it’s steadfast and sound,

As winter attacks with all might.

 

But not being selfish, the walnut  donates

A plush golden carpet of leaves,

Then huddles together and fearlessly waits,

Prepared to face chillier eves.


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Sunday Sailors

What an opportunity to learn to sail! The protected bay is perfect for it. A very light breeze keeps the would-be sailors on their toes, lest they get caught making a turn in the wrong direction.

Yes, there is strength in numbers, taking courage from each other, as long as they don’t all need help at the same time.

The guide boats keep a close watch on their assigned groups and are motorized for quick access to anyone needing extra help.

As long as you don’t end up in the water unexpectedly, this could be a lot of fun.

One other day when the sea was less calm it must have been training day, and luckily almost everyone was prepared for this “rescue mission.”

Or perhaps it was done on purpose to show the would-be sailors what to do if they took a wrong turn and flipped over.

They were obviously prepared for getting wet that day.

I think I’ll just stay on dry land whenever I can.

 


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Snaky Cloud

The long thin cloud looks straight enough, but look at the shape its shadow takes as it hits the contours of the hills below.

Clouds are not uncommon here. We’ve had them all winter long, long, long. What makes this cloud different is the sunshine above and below it.

And before you feel sorry for the little animals who happen to live in the shaded part of the hillside, take heart. By the time I came back into the house and set the camera down, that cloud had moved on to make way for total sunshine – at least for a few minutes. So far, so good.

The thin gray cloud intends to shroud,

It stretches ‘cross the sky,

Its wiggly shade is poorly made,

Like wings outspread to fly.

 

The shadows long come out all wrong,

They waver and despair,

The darkening doom imparts no gloom,

As breezes clear the air.


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The Eagle-eyed Weatherman

My eagle eye inspects the sky

To ferret out the chill,

And now I’m left to wonder why

The snow came down at will.

 

I know it’s colder in the heights,

And all the air was wet,

So pondering that, I knew by rights,

That snow was what we’d get.

I’ve fluffed my feathers up a tad

To keep the warmth inside,

I’ll check the depth of snow we’ve had,

And take a chilly glide.

I hope you’re hibernating, all

You creatures of the hills,

You must have known this snow could fall,

It’s testing all our wills.

 

But worry not, the rain will pour,

And wash the ice away,

Then soothing days will evermore,

Bring sunshine every day.

 


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Then and Now

Ski hill lit up in a magical spell,

Dreamy night setting that suits skiers well,

Silence is broken so gently and slow

By boards that grip sideways and crunch on the snow.

 

Icy cold particles stinging the cheek,

As windburn sets in, it is not for the meek,

Face feeling fresher against the wind’s bite,

Small price to pay to descend in the night.

 

Carving a path through the crisp mountain trail,

Chilling and thrilling, a joy without fail,

Swooping and sweeping around in the glow,

Joyfully living and breathing in snow.

 

That was then. This is now.

Cool breeze arrives on the ski hill next morn,

Rounding out edges to make them look worn,

Moisture seeps into each cranny and nook,

Skiers raise eyebrows with questioning look.

 

Where are the lights and the softly lit snow?

Who let this fog in, and why won’t it go?

Damp and encroaching, the low cloud just sits,

Making me thankful I’m wearing my mitts.

 

One thing is good about groping through mist,

Stunts can be tried that I just can’t resist,

No one can watch me or see as I fall

Ass over tea kettle once and for all.

Oops! Should have specified this poem as rated “R.”

(Sigh!) But “Bum over tea kettle” just doesn’t do it.

It would be too much like hearing a macho man say “whoops-a-daisy.”