Tea With Warriors

Earlier this week I returned from the Buffalo area, where I grew up, and this time, saw plenty of snow. In fact, more than I had ever driven in (when I lived there as a kid and college student, I didn't drive). Just before Christmas, I was sorting through lots and lots of photographs from childhood, because I was getting them ready to put in a digital picture frame I bought my parents. I noticed how beautiful my childhood home was- green and lush, filled with flowers and trees in the summer, and white and snowy in the winter. I remember how quiet the winters would be in the little valley we lived in. Between the hills, nestled in the trees, we didn't get much wind, and the summers were shady as well. Some highly idealized version of this is what comes up in dreams, and is both nostalgic and extremely beautiful to me.

In Buffalo the snow fell fast and thick, and very mushy and wet. When I got home to Pittsburgh, blue afternoon skies greeted me when I arrived. A couple days later, it snowed during the night. I had woken by dawn, and decided to mail something at the mailbox around the block. Snow was sticking to the branches of all the trees and bushes, creating a stark, intense 3D effect. I thought about going home to get the camera, but realized that there was no way the effect could be appreciated on a computer screen. I walked up one of the many "stairstep streets" (Loretto/Loretta, if you are interested) that Pittsburgh is noted for, and looked up. Various foreground and background layers of detailed black, gray and white patterns tickled my eye and sense of depth.

I continued walking around, even trying a deserted alleyway that I hadn't walked on before, checking out the backsides of houses on either side. I was king of the morning- slackers and criminal types wouldn't be up this early, especially in this weather. Aside from two or three people, I had the streets and sidewalks to myself, usually being the first person to leave my tracks in the fresh snow.

This kind of serene beauty is rare, and would fade as 8 or 9 o'clock came near, so I decided to head out to the nearby cemetery (which I knew opened at 7:30). I hesitated as I saw a couple snowplow trucks inside, but I went ahead anyway, knowing that there was probably enough room for both of us. This is a large Catholic cemetery, very formal in appearance, with trees that look they were pruned in perfectly round shapes at some time in the distant past. I decided to first head up to the top of the ridge and then head down and around where I would be enveloped in the hillside surroundings (on the other hand, I missed walking the other direction, with the trail nearly forever gently turning into the distance, with trees stately punctuating the curve). At the top, I could tell from the lack of footprints that I was alone this morning. I also wished for my camera again, noting that the scene in front of me was completely in black and white, with just a dash of blue from the neighboring water tower. Airplane notification lights periodically brought the cell phone towers into existence in the thick fog.

I came to a fork in the walkway, and had a Robert Frost moment. I chose the path more plowed. I turned around and was (pleasantly) startled by the line of trees behind me. Then I felt sad, that I didn't have time (before breakfast anyway) to experience this from all angles, like a Cubist view of reality. So I continued on my choice of plowed trail, which is the one that led along the scenic hillside.

A coworker (Hello, Matte Z.) once remarked that most stories have a beginning, middle and end, and Neumann stories don't. I'm afraid there is no memorable ending to this one either, just a gradual slide into irrelevance. As 8:30 rolled by, the snow, which had landed and stuck so neatly to the trees during the cold night, had begun to warm up and slough off. On my way back to the house, a whole section of snow suspended between two telephone poles fell to the ground and dispersed in the blink of an eye, into the rough slush below. That was it, my beautiful morning melting into just another ordinary day.

Here is a winter-related demo I made in 2008, which never made it onto the Niagara CD. It's called "Black BIrds".

http://www.teawithwarriors.com/music/black_birds_2008-07-07.mp3