March Nor'Easter

I’ve hit another one of those writers’ block moments, so I’m going through my computer looking at old writings, hoping to find some sort of inspiration.

Instead, I found a writing about snow from March of 2001.

I actually edited it a bit and set it to music (or really set music to it) in the spring semester of 2005. The recording is of 4 vocals and percussion. I’m sure I’d write it differently now, but not much. You can check out the recording at the recording section of my website. (http://www.alexanderyellen.com) It’s called “March Nor’Easter.”

Here’s the original un-edited writing. It was written while looking out my front door at 2 in the morning during a snow storm.

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A foot of pure white snow on the ground for the storm days earlier. A white coating on all tree branches. More pure white snow drifting slowly down. Streets deserted, lit only by the street lamps and the dim lights outside the doors of the houses. In between each light’s domain, pure blackness. The sky is lit dimly, but the light is reflected off the snow in such a way to make the whole sky glow a tint of off-white.

Left, right, up, down, and any other way you can think. Snow is everywhere that darkness isn’t. Silence. Peacefulness. Cleanliness. Purity. A slice of heaven come to earth in real life, in real time, in real vision, for all to share.

Any problems once had, suddenly melting away, little by little, with each solitary snowflake as it hits the windowpane and slowly dissolves into nothingness. Each snowflake becomes a memory. Never to be forgotten as true beauty in its purest. Untainted. Untouched. Inconceivable. No being on earth like it. This one snowflake, the source of all life. This snowflake to become water, to become part of runoff, to become part of a river, to become part of a fish’s home, part of a bear’s drink, part of a tree’s fertilizer. One snowflake. One ounce of purity paired with other flakes. One raindrop. Other future snowflakes. Other future raindrops. Future clouds. Future water bottles. But for now, it’s just a memory. A memory of the ounce of heaven that every person can experience. That ounce of silence, purity, love, and life.

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Hmm – reading that over, I’m very happy with the edits I made 4 years later. Go listen to the piece. Let me know what you think.

And in the meantime, as much as I love snow, I’m happy it’s summer and I don’t need to deal with boots or jackets or gloves or hats or snow-pants. (Although the last time I wore snow-pants was fantastic. It was the middle of high school. It was a blizzard. My then girlfriend came over, and we dressed up and went outside as if we were six again…a common theme with me. We wrestled in the snow and had a snowball fight and ended it with hot chocolate. I guess I’ll have to find summer innocence, instead, for now.)