Poem for the Darkness and Silence of Winter Solstice

Here's a poem I wrote many years ago. The poem seems pretty bleak--at first. But in the end it's a poem about Hope returning. Our days are very short and very dark right now. And I find the silence unnerving. Where is all the bird song? Where is the joyful cacophony?

Of course Christmas is coming. And we celebrate with lights and music and presents. And more than presents, we celebrate with our "presence" to each other.

I think in the darkness and silence, we need to light lights and candles, bring flowers and green into the house, and stay close to our family and friends. Otherwise . . .

Winter Solstice

The chill creeps into the bones:

December 21 and sun gone long before 5 o’clock;

huge gray clouds roll in off Lake Erie

riding the Witch’s gale, spitting sleet and

fears as real and as organized as the swirl

of pin oak leaves down Lakeshore Boulevard.

This day, shaken by nameless fears,

seems to last forever:

I wonder how I will get through the next minute,

and the minute after that,

and the minute after that,

wonder if I can make it

until hope returns

until peace-which-surpasses-understanding,

as mysterious as winter solstice’s fear--

my heart standing still, turning cold,

my spirit abandoned--

until peace returns like grace like unexpected

gift.

                       Robert M. Coughlin

Chapin Forest and the Beautiful Metro Parks of Northeast Ohio

I've been "training" for a 14-mile (28 miles round trip) hike into Montana's Bob Marshall Wilderness. Since I am 69 years old, such a long trip into the Wilderness is a serious matter. I have to be physically and mentally prepared for the challenge. To get ready I've been doing long hikes in Metroparks all around the East Side of Cleveland--the Cleveland Metroparks, the Lake County Metroparks, and the Geauga County Metroparks. I love all these park systems. The Cleveland system is the biggest and oldest, and it is magnificent. I've been hiking the North Chagrin Reservation, an awesome assemblage of forests, meadows, streams, ponds, and picnic areas. And I've been going into this huge park since I was a little kid growing up in Euclid. I love Squire's Castle, Strawberry Lane, Forest Lane, Sunset Pond, and all the trails and the wonderful diverse woods and ravines in North Chagrin. I hiked seven miles there yesterday, a great day.

Earlier this week I hiked the length of Chapin Forest in Kirtland, Ohio.

Besides a rich woods of sugar maple, beech, black cherry, red oak, and myriad other trees and shrubs, Chapin has some unusual geological features. It has caves and ledges, and a lot of rock called Sharon Conglomerate, a sandstone filled with luckystones (rounded milky quartz stones). The luckystones are one of the characteristic features of our Lake Erie beaches--they are found in Cuyahoga, Lake, and Ashtabula Counties (and probably on beaches in Pennsylvania and New York)--and nowhere else that I know of. As a toddler in Willoughby, Ohio, we would collect luckystones, put them under our pillows at night, and trick the tooth fairy. This always worked--as long as we told my Grampa about the plan.

Here is a photo I took of Sharon Conglomerate:

Another wonderful feature of Chapin Forest is Gildersleve Mountain, a high hill in the Forest that looks north to Lake Erie, rising 593 feet above the Big Lake, 6.7 miles to the north. Part of the hill has been quarried, so there is a precipitous drop-off at the top. By the way, very few people know the name "Gildersleve Mountain." It is part of local lore and it needs to be preserved. Here is a view of the lake from Gildersleve. My cell phone camera cannot do it justice. On a clear day you can see 18 miles to the skyscrapers in downtown Cleveland. An odd thing is that it looks like the entire area is a forest, when it is really a large, densely populated city. It brings to mind the old nickname of Cleveland: the "Forest City."

About 1.5 miles from Gildersleve is another historic quarry, where the stone for the Kirtland Mormon Temple was quarried in the early 1830s. Part of that is now a pond. And just north of the pond you can see an area where huge blocks of stone were quarried.:

The forest in this park is full of huge trees and I ran across a stump about 4-feet in diameter, the remains of an old red oak:

There are many huge trees in this forest, but some of them are dying, especially the white ash; they are being annihilated by the emerald ash borer. The ash trees are facing the same devastation that has met the American Chestnut and the American Elm. I have seen some small chestnut trees and many elm trees in local woods. Some elm trees have survived, but there has been a huge die off since my childhood. Will any ash trees somehow demonstrate immunity to the emerald ash borer? Time will tell.

Almost every day I walk in a different park. I love them all, but Chapin is near the top of the list.

Pope Francis, Saint Francis, and Mentor Headlands

Just Thoughts: Laudati Si’--Praise Be to You Lord

Walking on Mentor Headlands Beach the other day brought to mind Pope Francis and his great concern for the environment. He has shown this so clearly by taking the name Francis, after Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of environmentalism, and by the title and theme of the Pope’s great encyclical, Laudati Si’. For the title of the encyclical, the Pope actually borrowed the first two words of St. Francis’ Canticle of the Sun, written in his own Umbrian dialect of Italian. In the Canticle of the Sun, Francis wrote, “Praise be to you, My Lord, for Brother Sun . . . Sister Moon . . .  Brother Fire . . . Mother Earth.”

The reason St. Francis and Pope Francis came to mind when walking on the beach is because in Ohio we have done such a terrible job of caring for Brothers Wind and Air, and Sister Water. At Mentor Headlands the water was filthy with debris; a sign was posted saying the water quality was poor and that there was a risk of toxic poisoning from algae blooms. The sand was also filled with garbage. The bathrooms were filthy and unmaintained. What a judgement on us and the State of Ohio, allowing for such a tragedy to befall Ohio’s most magnificent beach, on one of the world’s great treasures--Lake Erie, the 12th largest lake in the world.

It doesn’t have to be this way. An hour and a half east on I-90 is the magnificent Presque Isle, just off Erie, PA. There are over 20 beaches on this peninsula, clean, cared for, with maintained changing facilities and bathrooms. Ohio’s Lake Erie shores could be like this.

St. Francis wrote, “Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.“ But Lake Erie is not clean or pure. In many places it is shameful and an abuse of God’s creation.

Let us work to clean up this resource. It is a matter of political will. Let us follow Pope Francis and Saint Francis on caring for our home, the Earth, and our back yard, Lake Erie.

Lake Erie: Still Frozen on March 24th!

This has been an incredible winter for Northeast Ohio, and Spring just doesn't seem to come. Yesterday, I took time out of a busy day to visit my old friend, Lake Erie. The Lake looked beautiful and awesome--but, alas, it was still pretty much frozen as far as the eye could see. That might change today with rain and warmer temperatures. It struck me this morning that the Cleveland Indians will begin their regular season in about a week--and winter still hanging around!

Here are some photos I took yesterday at Mentor Headlands:

Looking east toward the Fairport/Grand River Lighthouse

Looking west toward Mentor Lagoons and Willoughby

Looking north--all frozen!

Hundreds of people will be swimming here come this summer!

Shame on Ohio for the Poisonous Algae on Lake Erie! "Just Thoughts" Essay

Algae Bloom (this one from 2009 by Pelee Island)

Nice Glass of Lake Erie Water [Tom Bridgeman, UnderwaterTimes.com]

Just Thoughts: Stewardship of Our Precious Water Resource

We woke this past week to news that nearly a half million people in the Toledo area have been warned not to drink or even bathe in their water. Toledo water, which comes from Lake Erie, has been poisoned by an algae bloom, caused by run off of fertilizers and sewage system failures. The toxin, microcystin, is extremely dangerous, causing nausea, vomiting, skin rashes, with the danger of liver failure and death to people and animals. Babies are at considerable risk. The National Guard has had to bring emergency water tankers and bottled water to the people of Toledo. And this in the part of the world most blessed by abundant fresh water!

The same day this disaster was reported in the Plain Dealer and Toledo Blade, the first reading at mass was Isaiah singing, “All you who are thirsty, come to the water . . . .” Water is a major theme in Judeo-Christian scripture and liturgies, partially because it was so scarce in Palestine, and so crucial for life. We in Ohio seem to have wasted and abused this precious resource. We are wasting it in myriad other ways, with pollution being dumped into our rivers and lakes (the Ohio River at times is full of dangerous chemicals). And we are increasingly allowing nearly unfettered hydraulic fracturing (“fracking”) of oil and gas wells, using up 3 million gallons (some sources say 6 million gallons) of water per frack (and each well can be fracked over and over again, up to 12-18 times!).

This abuse of a resource necessary for our lives, given to us abundantly by God, is the result of bad state policies and shameful political lack of will. Pope Francis and American Bishops have made clear the call to conserve our precious land and water resources. Bishop Jaime Soto has offered this prayer: “May God open the heavens and let His mercy rain down upon our fields and mountains.  Let us especially pray for those most impacted by water shortages and for the wisdom and charity to be good stewards of this precious gift.  May our political leaders seek the common good as we learn to care and share God's gift of water for the good of all.”

Shame on Ohio! Let's fix this!

Summer Solstice Sunset on Lake Erie

Summer Solstice. Photo taken from Mentor Headlands Beach. Our beloved Lake Erie, named after the Cat Nation Indians, La Nation du Chat, is the 11th or 12th largest freshwater lake in the world. It really is one of the wonders of the world, and we try to enjoy it!

A Fantasy Poem about Frozen Lake Erie

The Frozen Lake, from Mentor Beach Park

Canucks and Yanks Crossing Frozen Lake Erie (a fantasy)

As if it were December 31, 406 AD all over again--when

Vandals, Alans, and Suebi, barbarian hordes, my ancestors,

Swarmed across the frozen Rhine--

The Roman Empire on the way to falling.

January 28, 2014, coldest winter in decades,

Lake Erie frozen from Toledo to Niagara Falls,

Catawba Island to Put-in-Bay to Point Pelee,

Cleveland to Rondeau, Long Point to Presque Isle.

And what happens? The barbarous Canucks seize their chance,

And start walking south, many with dogsleds,

Some on 4-wheelers or skimobiles,

None with passports.

The Canucks want liberty, cheap consumer goods,

Affordable housing--they want respect and status as North Americans,

Real Americans. They want warmth and sunshine.

And swarming north are Yanks, equally barbarous,

Also without passports, some with snowmobiles, dogsleds, 4-wheelers,

Wanting good health insurance, humane cities, less poverty,

Less vitriol, more kindness, more, what? Something else . . .

The Canadian frontier, where if you wanted, you could amble

Through wilderness to the Arctic,

Walk to the land of the Inuit and polar bear--

To the North Pole, for God’s sake.

Where imagination has fewer limits--or so they think.

The arduous trek is 2 hard days minimum, more like 3 for most.

And after a day and a half of the hardest going imaginable,

Over frozen waves, domes and ridges of ice, across

This bitter cold desert,

The Canucks and the Yanks meet in the middle,

At the invisible line that nation states draw

Through mountains, prairies, and Great Lakes.

They set up tents on the ice, 2 feet of ice over 70 feet of water.

They trade slugs of smooth Canadian whiskey

For thermoses of hot coffee. They trade dreams, aspirations.

They find that they are not that much different, those hiking north

And those hiking south. They are equally barbarous

and equally noble humans,

all aching for something better.

Robert M. Coughlin/January 2014

[I've had some second thoughts about the initial draft of this poem. So I changed a few words (so the "barbarous" Canadians are not waking across the Lake for guns!). This takes some edginess off this poem, but makes it more reasonable, I think. The poem grew out of 2 short poems that I wrote many years ago about the frozen Lake Erie. One of those poems ended with the lines: "I could walk to Canada / If I had the imagination." Well, this poem takes that imagination a step further! I tried to pair up this story line of walking across the frozen lake with the historical fact of the Germanic ("barbarian") tribes crossing the frozen Rhine River around 406 AD, leading eventually to the fall of the Roman Empire. I use the term "barbarous" ironically, of course, to describe both the Canadians and the Yanks.]

"Mea Culpa," O Canada, for that first draft!

A Lake Erie Story (for a Wintry November Day)

This story is about 90% true, with some fictionalization at the end.

Cruising the Big Lake a Late Summer Evening

 By Bob Coughlin

The air was benevolently warm as we skimmed the surface of the calm lake last Thursday in my old Sea Ray. We were a quarter mile off shore of the Mentor Lagoons, cruising Lake Erie, one of the world’s largest and most beautiful lakes. Late summer, the sun sinking down now before 8 pm, the sky glowing red, creating a path of gold from the setting sun to the shore.

Around 7 pm the onshore wind begins blowing, enough to fill the sails of the boats from the Mentor Harbor. About a half dozen sailboats go out onto the lake, hoist their sails, and follow the wind toward Fairport Harbor and the Grand River. Coming back against that wind will take some skill, tacking back and forth back to the Lagoons.

We head east, toward the Fairport Harbor Light at the entrance to the Grand River. Our first vision is the eroding clay cliffs near the Lagoons. There are yellowish, grey, and brown strata on these cliffs, in the most interesting whorls, carved vertical by 15-foot waves from last fall and winter. Perched precariously on the lip of the cliff we see gigantic red oaks, their roots partially exposed, waiting for the gales of November to go diving into the Lake. I hate to see these ancient giants go! Right on the rim of the cliff a deer browses on some grass, oblivious to the danger and unaware of its own surprising beauty. This square mile of beach and upland forest and marsh is thick with nearly tame deer.

We move further east at about 20 knots, along the mile-long wild shoreline, one of the only undeveloped shorelines on the south coast of Lake Erie (which, interestingly, is the north coast of the United States!). I see a few walkers, with their dogs racing along the beach. A guy throws a stick into the lake, and a big yellow lab plunges in after it. The perfect joy of being a dog chasing a stick!

Further east the beach is totally empty, as close to a wilderness as we have in Northeast Ohio. Driftwood, some of it the remnants of giant red oak and cottonwood, litter the beach. Back from the beach about 50 feet I see a small grove of willow trees and cottonwood. Then eroded hillside, full of small trees and some rather exotic shrubs, more reminiscent of much further south—yucca is everywhere; even some prickly pear cactus in the sand right below the hillside. Don’t these plants know what January is like in this environment? The lake will freeze, maybe freeze solid; then no more warming by a benevolent heat sink, the Big Lake!

Now, only a mile or two from the mouth of the Lagoons and a perfectly calm lake, a chop kicks up—not bad yet, but the Sea Ray begins rocking and rolling. I’ve learned to relax with this movement, not worry about it. My first couple years with this boat I would shift into panic mode when the lake kicked up. Not so much anymore.

We move further down toward Mentor Headlands and the great sand beach, a quarter mile wide and a mile and a half long. There are still a number of late-summer visitors on the beach, most of them on shore, lounging, reading, some playing beach volleyball. We cruise the boat very close to shore, maybe 200 feet off the beach. Many people wave to us and we wave back. A few hardy souls are in the water. Today is one of those days when the water is warmer than the air. The trick is to get in. I do it slowly and painfully; the brave and smart ones jump right in and get the initial shock over with quickly.

Soon we are along the wild part of Headlands beach, where there are no lifeguards and where the sand dunes are covered with beach oats and other hardy plants that can handle the wind and the sand. This part of the beach is nearly empty of people and is littered with driftwood and the trunks of giant trees. I remember how, as I kid living in Euclid, my brother Denny and I would launch one of these logs and ride it a mile out into the Lake. Today’s over-protective parents would have a hissy fit with something like that! Heck, police would probably get involved and the Coast Guard would come to the rescue!

As we approach the Grand River breakwall, I steer the boat south so we can enter the harbor by the lighthouse. I notice the lake is really kicking up now, contrary to the weather predictions I heard earlier on the marine radio. As I make the turn around the far end of the breakwall, we experience big waves and intense rocking and rolling. And then I see off the port side a small sailboat flipped over in the water. Three people, not wearing life jackets, are clinging to the boat and waving frantically to me.

I want to call a mayday in to the Coast Guard (who are stationed less than a mile from this very spot), but the urgency is to get these people out of the water. Linda grabs 2 telescoping hooks we use when we’re docking. She also grabs several life jackets and the life preserver ring to throw to the people in the water.

I maneuver the boat close to the overturned sailboat, careful not to hit anyone with the 5500 lb boat. Linda throws the ring to the teenage girl in the middle of the three and launches three life jackets to them. The three are frantic as they try to grab the life jackets and get them on as they tread water in the now very rough lake.

I wish I had another hand on board, but decide I need to make the mayday call to Channel 16 right now. Believe it or not this is the first time I’ve ever called on my marine radio. I sure hope it works. I call the mayday and the Coast Guard answers immediately. They are on their way and should be here in minutes. I hope it’s not too late.

By now Linda is using the telescoping hooks trying to reach the outstretched hands of the folks in the water. They all have lifejackets now, but only one was able to get it put on correctly; the other two are grasping them to their chests. Linda reaches the teenage girl and begins to pull her toward the Sea Ray. The girl reaches the swim platform and, with help, is able to climb the boat ladder and board the boat (which is bobbing and twisting in the increasing waves). Linda turns toward the other woman--she was not able to put on the life jacket. She grabs for the telescoping hook and Linda begins to pull her toward the boat. She gets to the boat but is too weak to climb the ladder and pull herself on board. She grasps the boat’s ladder, holding on for dear life.

The third boater in the water has begun to drift away from his overturned sailboat and my Sea Ray. Luckily the Coast Guard is approaching in a speedboat that looks like it’s doing 60 knots if anything.  As it approaches the man in the water, a guardsman dives into the lake and comes up behind and under the victim. He secures the man with a line and attaches an inflatable device of some sort. Another Guardsman reaches out with a real hook, one meant for the purpose of saving a person in the water. He quickly draws him to the Coast Guard boat and pulls him in. The rescue is over. Everyone is all right.

I haven’t had time to even think about what was happening. I notice now that my heart must be beating 150 times a minute and my head is throbbing. I feel suddenly nauseous and want to be back on terra firma.

October Snow in Chardon, Ohio

An October gift of Lake Erie. Life in the Snowbelt!

Summer Solstice Memory on Winter Solstice

Summer Solstice on Lake Erie--off Mentor Headlands, Ohio

Perfect Day on Lake Erie

Yesterday was hot in Northeast Ohio so we decided to head for the Big Lake. We arrived at Mentor Headlands around 4:30 PM and there were hundreds--probably thousands-- of people there already. The huge sandy beech, about a mile long and a 100 yards wide, could easily accommodate everyone. The Lake was calm, the only ruffles created by the many jet skis and boats out on the water. The sky was blue and cloudless. The air temperature near the lake was about 85 degrees and the sand was scalding hot. We set up right near the wild east end of the beach, next to the sand dunes.

I had to get into that water right away. The water at first felt chilly, though it was said to be 75 degrees. But soon I was in and swimming around, as was Linda. In the next few hours we were in and out of the water several times. There were lots of families around; there was a large group of teenagers, maybe a high school graduation class. As far as you could see there were people, both on the beach and in the water. More than I've seen in years. Around 6:30 we had a little supper--sandwiches, grapes, a peach, and a pop. Around 7:30 we made our last foray into the water. I put my eyes right at water level and looked in all directions. I thought, this is one of the most perfect moments of my life (The German line from Goethe's Faust entered my mind: "Verweile doch, du bist so schoen!" Please stay! Thou art so beautiful!").

After leaving the water and sitting back in our chairs, Linda noticed that Colin, our 2-year-old grandson., was coming with his parents, Julia and Ed. When he saw us, he began to run. He actually ran right past Linda, whom he calls "Nana," and to me, whom he calls "Brrr." For some reason, I have become his favorite lately. Colin started collecting lucky stones, the rounded milky quartz peculiar to the Chagrin and Grand River watersheds. He knew to give them to me; he knows I like lucky stones.

Soon the sun was beginning to set, this orange-red ball sinking into Lake Erie.The time of the sunset was strikingly early, about 8:13--summer is about over. Though we didn't see the "green flash," we did see one of the most beautiful Lake Erie sunsets ever. The picture below was taken 4 years ago at the same spot. And that's what sunset looked like last night--the perfect day on Lake Erie.

Most Beautiful Lake in the World?

Everyone knows my love for Lake Erie. But check out Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park! This is a webcam photo, taken the morning of August 2, 2012.

Spring Is in the Air

At my Geauga County home, 6 to 12 inches of glazed snow still cover the ground despite 50+ temperatures. Only heavy rain will melt all of this snow. Amazingly, a few areas of green grass have peeked out from under the blanket of white--a promise of things to come.

The days are considerably longer than the dark days of late December. What's really amazing is the increase in bird song in the morning. And the solid gigantic ice sheet that covered 10,000 square miles of Lake Erie as recently as last week is shrinking. I'm expecting to hear the annual stories of ice fishermen stranded on ice flows and Cost Guard rescues!

It even smells different outside today. There's an earthy smell, not the blank smell of dead winter. And there's even a bit of color in the trees and shrubs. The willows are turning a yellow color; the red-twig dogwood are really red; the silver maple buds are just swelling and bursting into a strange early flowering. Holy Toledo!

Spring is a-comin'!

"The sweep of easy wind and downy flake" (Robert Frost)

This winter I have gone cross country skiing about 7 or 8 times. Often I go to Chapin Forest, a Lake Metropark in Kirtland, Ohio, following the Arbor Trail to Luckystone Loop, climbing up what we used to call as kids "Gildersleeve Mountain." At the top of the "mountain" there is a bluff over an old luckystone (milky quartz) quarry. And from there, on a clear day, you can see Lake Erie and the taller buildings on the Lake in Eastlake, Willowick, Euclid, Bratenahl--and even Cleveland. You can see the skyscrapers of Cleveland, some 18 miles away. The valley underneath Gildersleeve Mountain looks like a vast forested wilderness in the summer. But that is an illusion because hundreds of thousands of people live on the East Side of Greater Cleveland. Still, you start to understand why Cleveland was once called the "Forest City." So Chapin Forest is one of my favorite skiing venues.

I also like to ski at the Holden Arboretum in Kirtland, one of the world's greatest arboreta. There are miles of trails through deep woods, through prairie and plantings, around ponds and Corning Lake.

Today I skied at the Mentor Lagoons, another of Lake County's treasures--with hundreds of acres of lagoons, forest, marshland, and a mile of untouched lake shore. I took the lake trail, and as it emerged from the deep woods, I could see a completely frozen Lake Erie--solid ice as far as the eye can see. And at this time of the year, a kind of silent dessert, awesomely beautiful. I stood there on my skis thinking of Robert Frost's great poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." I especially thought of the lines, "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." That's exactly what I heard--nothing but the sweep of easy wind. This wonderful music and this wonderful silence!

[There is a fantastic Wikipedia article on Gildersleeve Mountain at this site:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gildersleeve_Mountain]

Summer Solstice Sunset on Lake Erie

These photos show the sunset over Lake Erie on the Summer Solstice, 2008, from Mentor Headlands State Park. The photos were taken with a Canon digital camera, and the images were not manipulated in any way.

[Photos copyrighted 2008 by Robert M. Coughlin.]

Blackberry Winter?

When I lived in Kentucky I would occasionally hear terms for various "winters" that interrupted the springtime. I can't remember all the terms, but "blackberry winter" was one of them. I guess this means a cold snap after blackberry blossoms have emerged. Well, our blackberries have not yet bloomed, but we are having something like sarvis (seviceberry) winter, or redbud winter, daffodil winter, dogwood winter, Cleveland pear winter, tulip winter--some kind of winter! This is typical for our spring, the fits and starts, always maddening and always there! Let's hope that our fruit trees and crops are not damaged and that the great Lake Erie doesn't sweep in "12 inches of partly cloudy" (as Dick Goddard, the local weather god, says.).

Frozen Lake Erie

Lake Erie is frozen as far as the eye can see right now. Farther than the eye can see, there are open areas in the lake; it very rarely freezes over totally. There is an awesome silence out on the lake's ice; you feel as if you were in a desert or a wilderness. The snow sweeps across the silent ice and you have a sense of holiness and prayer. Years ago I wrote a poem about the frozen lake:




"Lake Erie--Frozen Solid"

the awesome sight--huge
pressure domes of ice
heaved into ridges
chaotic frozen waves
far as the eye can see
wondrous powerful lake

I could walk to Canada
if I had the imagination.

This poem began in my mind as a description of Lake Erie in winter and ended up being a poem about the power of imagination. That is the thing about the creative process--it often surprises you, takes you in unexpected directions.

Lake Effect in the Lake Erie Snowbelt

110 to 150 inches of snow each season--that's what we get in the Northeast Ohio snowbelt, especially in Chardon, Hambden, Munson, Montville, Thompson, Chester, Leroy, and Madison Townships. We also get sometimes spectacular and other times dreary, endless cloudiness about 7 months of the year. The snow and the clouds are generated by Lake Erie, our local Wonder of the World, the 11th largest freshwater lake on earth. The snowbelt is a rather narrow band of territory east of Cleveland. It begins on Cleveland's far East Side and extends south and east to parts of Cuyahoga County, all of Lake County and Geauga County, and the northern half of Ashtabula County. It's possible to have no snow and sunny skies in Westlake, Avon Lake, or Bay Village, and blizzard-like conditions and two feet of snow on the ground 35 or 40 miles east in our snowbelt.

We snowbelters tend to take a perverse pride in our perverse weather (of course we complain about it at the same time!). I will talk about our "Lake Effect" in another posting.