Classic Ross Amico

Tag: Winter

Jingle All the Way on “Sweetness and Light”

Yes, I know the winter solstice isn’t until next Sunday. But from where I’m typing, here on the East Coast, we’re expecting snow! Perhaps you’ve already had your share where you are. That’s the wonder of worldwide streaming. You could be sipping piña coladas south of the Equator, for all I know. But here, I’m busy designing an all-weather food-station for my backyard wildlife.

Be that as it may, since by next Saturday I’ll already be going full-bore ho-ho-ho, now’s the time to get a jump on Old Man Winter on “Sweetness and Light.” I’ll do my unlevel best to conjure some seasonal atmosphere, in providing a pleasant backdrop for compiling your holiday checklist and perhaps even filling out a few Christmas cards over a cup of tea. It will be all music evocative of wintry scenes and activities.

We’ll hear works by Philip Lane, Frederick Delius, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, and Leopold Mozart; also the original version of “Jingle Bells,” published in 1857 by James Pierpont as “The One-Horse Open Sleigh,” in a hilarious performance by the Robert DeCormier Singers. Be forewarned: sleighs will be “upsot!”

Put on the kettle and link arms with Classic Ross Amico. We’ll be walking in a winter wonderland on “Sweetness and Light,” this Saturday morning at 11:00 EST/8:00 PST, exclusively on KWAX Classical Oregon!

Stream it wherever you are at the link:

https://kwax.uoregon.edu/

December 13, 2025
Groundhog Day Six More Weeks Winter?

Happy Groundhog Day! Punxsutawney Phil, seers of seers, glimpsed his shadow this morning, prognosticating six more weeks of winter. So when does it start?

Pour yourself another cup of coffee and join me in the singing of the Punxsutawney Phil song.

February 2, 2023
Thank You Groundhog Six More Weeks Winter

Thank you, O Mystic Groundhog!

Despite some rough weather incidents, I have been feeling the tug of spring for weeks already – the lengthening days, patches of greening grass, a couple of eager trees, even a sprout in the yard. Fortunately, my bribe to the Groundhog has not gone unnoticed, and Punxsutawney Phil predicts six more weeks of winter! HOORAY!

The consensus among media outlets seems to be that Phil’s prognostications have been correct 40 percent of the time. In other words, about as accurate as your average weathercaster.

My money’s on the Groundhog. Grilled cheese and tomato soup for everyone!

Now join me in the singing of the Punxsutawney Phil song:

February 2, 2022
Punxsutawney Phil Sees Shadow Winter’s Back

Ever the sensible rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, after being rudely awakened this morning at Gobbler’s Knob, glimpsed his shadow, wished death on his handlers, and climbed back into bed. Six more weeks of winter!

O Mystic Groundhog. Thank you for this gift of six more weeks of winter. Ice and slush may not be ideal for walking or driving, but I will take it any day over the prospect of sizzling on the griddle for four months. No, heavy socks and cozy food are more my speed. I love climbing under the blankets with a good book and listening to the wind howl.

Phil has been calling it now for 135 years. The Washington Post reports that his prognostications have been correct 80 percent of the time. CNN places the figure closer to 39. (Phil’s handlers claim it is 100.) That’s still better than the actual professionals, who whip everyone into a frenzy at the threat of even the humblest dusting. From now on, I get all my forecasts from the groundhog.

Now join me in singing the Punxsutawney Phil song! Then back to bed.

February 2, 2021
Snow Day Memories of Childhood Winter in Pennsylvania

Snow has a way of making poets of us all, it imprints us so, when we are young.

As I watch the the birds huddling around their feeders, piled high with extra food, replenished for them late yesterday, my thoughts wander back to the monumental snowfalls of my elementary and high school years, while growing up in eastern Pennsylvania. It wasn’t unusual then that schools would close for two or even three days, the district was so vast. Open fields and farmland were like carnival grounds for the elements. The drifting snow was such that buses never left the grounds.

I would stay up late, watching the snow fall, from my bedroom, in the fervent hope that there would be enough accumulation that I wouldn’t have to be up and out the door in a few hours. Homeroom began at 7:15, and by high school I had given up on the drama of taking the bus, opting instead to walk the five miles (by car), which I was able to shave by taking a shortcut through the woods. I lay there for a long while listening to the sounds of chains on tires, as plows and repurposed garbage trucks made their rounds.

Of course, in the morning I would be up anyway, listening with my mother and sister for the closings. Once school was officially cancelled, I embarked, with a stomach full of Cream of Wheat, on a long day of shoveling, sledding, and snowball fights. I’d stagger back home, half-frozen, at midday, with blue spots flashing before my eyes and snow caked to my socks, to regroup over toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, lovingly served up by Mom.

Then I’d be out the door again until suppertime. In the evening, the snow cast a wondrous luminosity, which continued uncannily into the night. By then, friends who lived at respectable distances would have found their way to one another’s houses. The pelting of snowplows ensued.

There were no snow blowers back then. Only eerie silence, punctuated by the distant squeal of children, perhaps the scrape of a shovel, or an occasional spinning tire. After a good snow there would be such embankments, you would have thought we were living in Lillehammer. All very conducive to the construction of ice fortresses, which we connected through a network of passageways.

How many years has it been since I’ve barreled down a nearly-vertical plane on a sled? Lain with my back against the snow? Walked in the woods and experienced a fairy world transformation?

So much laughter, adventure, and romance in those days. Where are the snows of yesteryear?

February 1, 2021

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