Frozen in time

[shewhomust]

poliphilo puts it well: "This white weather makes everything a little unreal - a little dreamlike - as if time itself had been frozen.".

Small tasks become large and complicated; yesterday's expedition to the pool (something we accomplish in summer before a late breakfast) occupied the whole afternoon. Not going out ought to give me plenty of extra time to get things done, but I don't seem to focus...

An article in yesterday's Guardian attributes to Vilhjalmur Stefansson the description of the Inuit strategy for dealing with a blizzard: find what shelter and comfort you can, whether by building an igloo or simply sitting with your back to the wind; move only as much as is necessary to keep from freezing, sleep if you can, wait it out. "A European, by contrast, will instinctively thrash on, building up a sweat with his exertions. As he exhausts himself, the sweat generated will turn to ice, which in all likelihood will kill him."

This ought to make me feel better about my current suspended animation; and it does, a little...

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Yes. The sensible reaction to the big white out is to stop rushing around and wait it out.

[cinderberry.livejournal.com]

Oh, right! So, being unable to accomplish anything today is not, in fact, laziness, but this clever thing I do to fight the cold. That's good to know.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Exactly.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

I have crawled into LiveJournal and pulled the covers up over my head!

[weegoddess.livejournal.com]

::smiles amusedly::

J did take the bus this morning, since although the roads were ok our motel parking lot had not been plowed yet (did I mention that the motel is on a hill?). I just came back from moving the car so that the plow could come through. And now I'm watching an eBay auction like a hawk; I intend to snake the highest bidder when the time comes.

Mwah-hah-hah-haaaah.

[sovay]

"This white weather makes everything a little unreal - a little dreamlike - as if time itself had been frozen."

So C.S. Lewis knew what he was doing with his hundred years of winter and never Christmas: it's the only time of year in which you can see no visible progress of the season; in the absence of externally imposed holidays, it might all be the same long, frozen, low-sun age of a day.

"A European, by contrast, will instinctively thrash on, building up a sweat with his exertions. As he exhausts himself, the sweat generated will turn to ice, which in all likelihood will kill him."

I have passed this on to my mother, who hibernates in winter.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

So C.S. Lewis knew what he was doing...

Back in December, which was surprisingly mild, I was using the line "lalways Christmas and never winter".

Hah! That'll teach me -