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Letter from Boston
Warm Winter
By MASAKO
YAMADA
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暖冬
今年は米国でも暖冬です。今年こそ新しいコートを買おうと思っていた雅子さんも、今のところは手持ちのジャケットで十分だそうです。さて、2月2日は米国ではグランドホッグデーといい、春の到来を占う日です。今年の春はどの辺りまで来ているのでしょうか…。
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There is a holiday on February 2nd called "Groundhog Day." Tradition says that on this day, the groundhog wakes up from
its long winter sleep and sticks its head out of its
hole in the ground. If it sees its shadow, it gets a
shock and runs back into its hole. Winter will
continue for six more weeks. However, if it doesn't see its shadow, it emerges from its hole and moves about. Spring will be
coming soon. . . .
I don't know which groundhog is the "official" one ―
different groundhogs in different parts of America are sure to see different
things ― but local TV news
crews usually take a shot of a random groundhog on this day. They probably lure some poor zoo
creature from its warm crevice and scare it back into its hole with the spotlights. In that case, it's sure to have seen a very
clear shadow, I guess.
I didn't catch the evening news this year, but I get the sense that the groundhogs in New England this
year didn't hibernate in the first place. They must have been
scurrying about all winter, since it's been unnaturally warm.
"White Christmas" is a dream situation that even appears in ballad titles, but a couple of days
before this Christmas, my friend Matt and I had lunch outside on a bench along the
Charles River. Yesterday, I was feeling under the
weather, but it was so sunny and bright outside, it made me feel better just walking
from my apartment to the T-stop.
A year ago, the Boston dailies had "Blizzard of
1997" blazing across the front page for days on end.
There were many days in which walking from my dorm
room to class seemed to be like an expedition in
the Himalayas. Even when I wore heavy-duty, waterproof boots, my feet would be wet and cold by the
time I got there. There were many times in which I wished for a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers to be waiting at the Science Center
entrance. That hasn't happened once this winter.
Sometimes, it's nice to wear a long
coat, muffler and hat and to hear the snow crunching
underfoot as you walk along. My friend Eric told me that he hates the sound of snow
crunching, but as long the snow is clean, it's not too cold, you're not in a hurry and
your feet are dry, I think it's a very pleasant winter experience. I think it's too
bad I couldn't do that this year. It's nice to have
reminders that time is always going forward.
Apparently, the ski resorts in the
area are not making much money this winter. Although
most large resorts have efficient snow-making
machines that cover the mountains adequately, this hasn't
helped business much. Most people associate
skiing with "snow on the ground," and as long as they
don't see it in their backyard, they can't picture it
on a mountain. I suppose coat companies haven't been
doing too well, either. All winter long, I've vowed
to buy myself a new wool coat, but so far, I've been
doing fine with my lined leather jacket. I haven't taken the plunge yet, and I doubt I will.
I recently took a walk around Boston Garden in my
leather jacket, and although it was a bit chilly, I
didn't even need a hat. The pond had ice on its surface and along its edges, but the layer
wasn't too thick. Pretty soon, the pond will melt, and the foot-powered duck-shaped boats will re-emerge from storage. The flowers have yet to bloom ― but it's clear that the shoots will be emerging soon. The benches will be full
of people who are going nowhere in particular, and
Boston children will be lined up on the docks to ride
the duck boats.
Shukan ST: Feb. 28, 1997
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