Doing differently: adapting to the snow storm

Today’s daily writing prompt is ‘What could you do differently?’ but right now it’s more like ‘What must you do differently?’ 

Doing differently: adapting to the snow storm

Snow has been falling heavily for the past few days and it’s even worsened today. Merely poking my head over the balcony and I could see young students from the school next door moving across the street and throwing snowballs at each other.

Our Church from the 1920s looks even more like a mosque in Anatolia right now. The streets are blanketed in snow. The question now is how will I be able to go to school tomorrow? And will I find many students in class?

doing differently

We missed the white Christmas but we have a snowy start of the year 2026.

doing differently
Birds too are bound to be doing things differently as tree branches might somewhat become a bit slippery.

And now a bit of wintery poetry by the aptly named Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost was an acclaimed American poet born in San Francisco in 1874 and raised in New England. He gained fame for rural-themed works like ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ after publishing in England in 1913, then returned to the U.S. to teach and win four Pulitzer Prizes. Frost died in Boston in 1963, leaving a legacy of colloquial verse exploring nature and human complexity.

Granted, we are bit far from the woods and frozen lakes here, but in the Middle Ages we weren’t. The nearby metro station named ‘glacière’ (cool storage literally) is even reminiscent of these times when people would come around here to collect ice from the frozen creek.

Happy Snowy and different New Year to you!

Yann Gourvennec
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