What a beautiful way to raise kids. My kids have never seen snow. When I lived in America, the first time I saw snow felt like a fairytale just like you describe. I could feel the magic! I can't wait to take them one day. Again, when you write about your Dad your love is so present in your words. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Lozz! The beauty of nature comes through in all climates--I see your kids having so much of it in those fields on horseback. Whatever sense memories we put into our bodies when we're young are lighthouses to return to as we get older.
-- Wow, that’s my favorite time to be reading your pieces — Monday mornings in a small town (no snow, though, only nature), sipping tea, and enjoying the peaceful warmth of your writing. I absolutely love how you told this small tale, preserving its honesty and preciousness. I’ve already re-read it three times; it’s so inspiring. I’ve never seen snow in person, but whenever I do, I’ll remember how you described it here. I know we’re all human and perfection doesn’t quite apply to our realities, but I truly believe that you and your family had a unique way of seeing magic everywhere. Also, there’s so much love in your father’s passages. Thank you, really. Xo.
Yes! My father's mystical POV was somewhat alienating and confusing to me as a child (other peoples parents didn't make them sing Latin!) but the older I get, the more I appreciate that he saw the world with awe and wonder... and lots of mystery. Writing this helped me make sense of that--as writing does. Thank you for seeing us.
I love when you share about your childhood memories and how much love there is in your words, especially when you write about your family! I can imagine everything you discribed, your writing is pure gold. I’m pretty sure my grandpha farm house, where i lived when i was a kid was haunted too, i remerber the chill, his encyclopedias and vinyl records, and one time the radio just start playing by itself haha good memories!! Thank you, Isabel ❤️
The radios were always turning themselves on! I remember so many 2am's when my CD player would start up with the hiss of the disc beginning to turn. Goosebumps everywhere just remembering those moments!
joyce rubbed off on you here no doubt but with your own nuanced voice and im so pleased you no longer shy from reading other fiction (ie the comparisons in your head you have mentioned before)
just the dragging of an encyclopedia describes the child and the prolonged bathroom stay curiosity this is fine writing i envy you the snow you look happy
Apple, I feel like you're an encyclopedia! I had forgotten sharing my peevish rejection of literature. Now the issue isn't jealousy, it's TIME. But that's my own damn fault.
" How many snow days will our boys have? " Your question reminded me of the year that our children were turning 6 and 9 with three days apart - April 30 and May 3rd. We had a Colorado spring party planned on the deck but on April 30th we got 12 inches of snow, on May 1st 12 inches, and then on May 2nd another 12 for a whopping 36 inches in total. Thus the party became this crazy wild snow festival that I will always remember. I'm wondering if we are all connected by this - the tenderness of remembering special snows that our children experienced?
A spring snow festival! I can't imagine anything more memorable for a birthday. Snow is so magic to me... as if the clouds have come down and settled on the earth for a while. Those days of life suspended in sparkling, cold extremis... unforgettable.
In the 80's when I raised my kids in Colorado snow was the biggest part of most of our days. We longed for warmer days, summer and less clothes. Now that has changed in my bioregion with less snow and very hot temps and a 365 day fire season.
I enjoyed the snow rides both past and present. Thanks for making me remember and relive Tuesday's beautiful snow.
I walked a mile in the snow along Fifth between two column of tress, their branches freshly angelic. Every now and then the wind would blow off a piece of snow that would fall softly against my coat, and I could pretend I was taking part in a the world's most gentle snowball fight.
Yes, that last paragraph always makes me emotional, because it shows what language is capable of doing. Every writer who's ever read that paragraph...
I almost deleted that paragraph thinking: "this is too dense and nobody will get to it." And then I thought--well...maybe David will. Thank you for confirming my hope, and for being the kind of reader I hope will join me.
I loved this! When we were living I. The village, the golf course would convert to a toboggan hill in the winter. I took the boys a few times and we’d try the shallower hills which were still way steeper than anything I’d seen before (golf clubs have these beautiful, concave indentations which are great for summer but not so much for slicked snow turned to ice after 100 runs).
We fell a lot. I think we may have lost baby teeth. But we survived and we have the memories. I keep thinking every snow storm might be their last too
It won't surprise you to hear I've been following your snow reports with intense interest! I think having children's eyes to see the world makes all of this so much more poignant. Snow days feel like mothering: even as they're happening, I'm watching them end. I don't mean to sound bleak... getting older, I see the preciousness of my experiences. I hold them more tenderly.
Isabel I wrote but never published a post about all the snow disappearing over the Christmas break. Mostly because it was ugly writing and I couldn't find a way to make it sound beautiful the way you did. So you might sound bleak but you're talking to someone just as bleak lol... Every moment now...
You know it's funny, I haven't written about the ghosts before but they are real players in my youth. More to come!! I'm so grateful you're here, Kristin.
"What does snow do for us? It’s eternal and it’s erasure. It’s life and it’s death. It’s telescoping into all of the selves you’ve ever been; waking up to blankness and assessing what’s possible. Realizing, as you take your first steps into that white-blue expanse—everything is." Loved this reminder of the possibilities that a snow day reset offers. As a father of three who sometimes grumbles about two hour delays and other last-minute school announcements, I'm still learning how to lean into these days as gifts. Thanks for snapping that focus back.
Oh wait.... did I not mention my grumbling? Because man, do I grumble. I really enjoyed meeting you... I look forward to following your work and am grateful to you for reading this! Be well!!
I love this DL story. We had a Buick Regal growing up with crushed velour upholstery and wide lounge chair seats and my mom called "her" Bessie. Her full name was "Bessie Ol' Reliable" (said with an Okie drawl). Sometimes when we would arrive home after a long day trip, my mom would pat Bessie on the dashboard and nod her head and say "Yep, Ol' Reliable." If we loved that car enough and called her affectionately by name, she just might get us where we needed to go and not break down before we got there!
UNCANNY. We just named our new car Bessie. You know the bus. Funny how cars become the center points of family lore. This latest one feels like riding around in a living room... though sadly no velour.
Breathtaking. This piece is mysticism and mundanity, with neither written as more nor less captivating than the other. And that’s life, isn’t it, if we’re paying attention?
Oh wow, I don't think there's anything I would hope to convey more. This comment is an honor to receive, and I have really taken it in. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Stephanie.
THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF. You left me paused in speechless adoration throughout.
Thank you and Pappy for the reminder — dive in, this is all we have ❤️🔥
the good stuff definitely!!
Thank you for being here for every single thing, Caroline. I love to be seen! :)
What a beautiful way to raise kids. My kids have never seen snow. When I lived in America, the first time I saw snow felt like a fairytale just like you describe. I could feel the magic! I can't wait to take them one day. Again, when you write about your Dad your love is so present in your words. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Lozz! The beauty of nature comes through in all climates--I see your kids having so much of it in those fields on horseback. Whatever sense memories we put into our bodies when we're young are lighthouses to return to as we get older.
That is true.
Your childhood sounds like something between a fairy tale and a ghost story. Utterly captivating. xo
That's it exactly! Such an apt way to describe it... though aren't all the best fairy tales a little bit haunting?
Yes, I thought that even as I wrote the comment. xo
-- Wow, that’s my favorite time to be reading your pieces — Monday mornings in a small town (no snow, though, only nature), sipping tea, and enjoying the peaceful warmth of your writing. I absolutely love how you told this small tale, preserving its honesty and preciousness. I’ve already re-read it three times; it’s so inspiring. I’ve never seen snow in person, but whenever I do, I’ll remember how you described it here. I know we’re all human and perfection doesn’t quite apply to our realities, but I truly believe that you and your family had a unique way of seeing magic everywhere. Also, there’s so much love in your father’s passages. Thank you, really. Xo.
Yes! My father's mystical POV was somewhat alienating and confusing to me as a child (other peoples parents didn't make them sing Latin!) but the older I get, the more I appreciate that he saw the world with awe and wonder... and lots of mystery. Writing this helped me make sense of that--as writing does. Thank you for seeing us.
Hahahaha I'm sorry, I just laughed a little 'nobody else's parents made them sing latin' 🤣🤣. Bless his heart.
I love when you share about your childhood memories and how much love there is in your words, especially when you write about your family! I can imagine everything you discribed, your writing is pure gold. I’m pretty sure my grandpha farm house, where i lived when i was a kid was haunted too, i remerber the chill, his encyclopedias and vinyl records, and one time the radio just start playing by itself haha good memories!! Thank you, Isabel ❤️
The radios were always turning themselves on! I remember so many 2am's when my CD player would start up with the hiss of the disc beginning to turn. Goosebumps everywhere just remembering those moments!
Yes!!! My grandpa reminded me of this story in the new year’s eve.. he always said that the ghosts keep him company .. who knows 💁♀️
Love reading this Isabel.
Grateful for your presence here & everywhere, Alice 🧡
joyce rubbed off on you here no doubt but with your own nuanced voice and im so pleased you no longer shy from reading other fiction (ie the comparisons in your head you have mentioned before)
just the dragging of an encyclopedia describes the child and the prolonged bathroom stay curiosity this is fine writing i envy you the snow you look happy
Apple, I feel like you're an encyclopedia! I had forgotten sharing my peevish rejection of literature. Now the issue isn't jealousy, it's TIME. But that's my own damn fault.
oh i don't believe that surprising how time bends to our requirements and choices even
This was terrific.
Humbled you're here, always.
" How many snow days will our boys have? " Your question reminded me of the year that our children were turning 6 and 9 with three days apart - April 30 and May 3rd. We had a Colorado spring party planned on the deck but on April 30th we got 12 inches of snow, on May 1st 12 inches, and then on May 2nd another 12 for a whopping 36 inches in total. Thus the party became this crazy wild snow festival that I will always remember. I'm wondering if we are all connected by this - the tenderness of remembering special snows that our children experienced?
A spring snow festival! I can't imagine anything more memorable for a birthday. Snow is so magic to me... as if the clouds have come down and settled on the earth for a while. Those days of life suspended in sparkling, cold extremis... unforgettable.
In the 80's when I raised my kids in Colorado snow was the biggest part of most of our days. We longed for warmer days, summer and less clothes. Now that has changed in my bioregion with less snow and very hot temps and a 365 day fire season.
Great piece Isabel.
I enjoyed the snow rides both past and present. Thanks for making me remember and relive Tuesday's beautiful snow.
I walked a mile in the snow along Fifth between two column of tress, their branches freshly angelic. Every now and then the wind would blow off a piece of snow that would fall softly against my coat, and I could pretend I was taking part in a the world's most gentle snowball fight.
Yes, that last paragraph always makes me emotional, because it shows what language is capable of doing. Every writer who's ever read that paragraph...
I almost deleted that paragraph thinking: "this is too dense and nobody will get to it." And then I thought--well...maybe David will. Thank you for confirming my hope, and for being the kind of reader I hope will join me.
I loved this! When we were living I. The village, the golf course would convert to a toboggan hill in the winter. I took the boys a few times and we’d try the shallower hills which were still way steeper than anything I’d seen before (golf clubs have these beautiful, concave indentations which are great for summer but not so much for slicked snow turned to ice after 100 runs).
We fell a lot. I think we may have lost baby teeth. But we survived and we have the memories. I keep thinking every snow storm might be their last too
It won't surprise you to hear I've been following your snow reports with intense interest! I think having children's eyes to see the world makes all of this so much more poignant. Snow days feel like mothering: even as they're happening, I'm watching them end. I don't mean to sound bleak... getting older, I see the preciousness of my experiences. I hold them more tenderly.
Isabel I wrote but never published a post about all the snow disappearing over the Christmas break. Mostly because it was ugly writing and I couldn't find a way to make it sound beautiful the way you did. So you might sound bleak but you're talking to someone just as bleak lol... Every moment now...
Your piece from December 17th inspired me to be a paying subscriber. I used a quote from it and urged my little community to follow you. https://adchick.substack.com/p/finding-creativity-in-a-delaware?utm_source=profile&utm_medium=reader2
I love your writing...I can feel the places you describe!
Susan! WELCOME!! Zipping over to check out your piece now. I'm so glad to be connected!!!
You mentioned Bethlehem ... would that be Pennsylvania? I've been in Philly for 6 years now...a Missouri transplant!
Adore your telescoping prose Isabel!! I'm left wanting to hear more and especially about the ghosts
You know it's funny, I haven't written about the ghosts before but they are real players in my youth. More to come!! I'm so grateful you're here, Kristin.
"What does snow do for us? It’s eternal and it’s erasure. It’s life and it’s death. It’s telescoping into all of the selves you’ve ever been; waking up to blankness and assessing what’s possible. Realizing, as you take your first steps into that white-blue expanse—everything is." Loved this reminder of the possibilities that a snow day reset offers. As a father of three who sometimes grumbles about two hour delays and other last-minute school announcements, I'm still learning how to lean into these days as gifts. Thanks for snapping that focus back.
Oh wait.... did I not mention my grumbling? Because man, do I grumble. I really enjoyed meeting you... I look forward to following your work and am grateful to you for reading this! Be well!!
Great to meet you, too. Here's one from the archive that might resonate with your series. https://joshuadolezal.substack.com/p/in-search-of-simplicity
I love this DL story. We had a Buick Regal growing up with crushed velour upholstery and wide lounge chair seats and my mom called "her" Bessie. Her full name was "Bessie Ol' Reliable" (said with an Okie drawl). Sometimes when we would arrive home after a long day trip, my mom would pat Bessie on the dashboard and nod her head and say "Yep, Ol' Reliable." If we loved that car enough and called her affectionately by name, she just might get us where we needed to go and not break down before we got there!
UNCANNY. We just named our new car Bessie. You know the bus. Funny how cars become the center points of family lore. This latest one feels like riding around in a living room... though sadly no velour.
Hope your Bessie turns out to be as reliable as ours was!
Breathtaking. This piece is mysticism and mundanity, with neither written as more nor less captivating than the other. And that’s life, isn’t it, if we’re paying attention?
Oh wow, I don't think there's anything I would hope to convey more. This comment is an honor to receive, and I have really taken it in. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Stephanie.