Dat sneet 

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(Sneemoond 1999) 

Kommodig sitt ik an mien Schrievdisch un frei mi, datt Fro Holle endlich mol de Betten so richtig schüddelt. Mudder Ier hett een wittet Kleed öbersmeten. Een Winterlandschupp as in mien Kinnertiet, bloots wüür de Sneedeek dormols heuger. Mien Fründ, de ole, grote Kostanjenboom, hett sik een Bruutkleed antrocken. Smuck süht he ut. Noch kummt de lütte Kotheker jeedeen Morgen un hoolt sik de Nööt ut sien Astgobel, de mien Mann em dor al siet Johrn rinpackt. He bruukt ok nich veel rümtoknacken. Nee, mien Heinz geiht vörher mit een Nöötknacker bi un knackt de Nööt an. Is dat seut, totokieken wenn he an 't Muffeln is! Seker sünd dat al de Kinner un Kinnskinner vun den iersten Kotheker den wi fodert hebbt.

Jo, gifft veel to doon wenn Snee fallt. Dat Ierste is, datt mien Mann Snee schüffelt vör uns Huus, op den Steenweg, no 'n Goorn ruut no de Vogelhüüs. Allns warrt versorgt ihr wi uns to'n Freuhstück doolsett. Wat een Leben an de Vogelhüüs! De Drosseln hebbt tweisneen Appeln ünner dat Foderhuus liggen un sünd ieberig dorbi to picken. För de Mesen hingt Knödels, ober mit Bedacht so ophungen, datt de smucke Buntspecht un sien Fro ok spiesen köönt. De Boss vun de Dompaffen - dree hebb ik tellt - lücht wiethin. Fro Pfäffin hett bloots een swatte Huuv op.

Een Leben un Drieben is dat in unsen Goorn, datt uns Freuhstückstiet foken op een Stünn utdehnt warrt, wiel wi soveel Freid hebbt totokieken. Uns Katten, veer an de Tall, kiekt liekso niep vun de Finsterbank ut to as wi. Sülbst in'n Goorn jachtert se nich achter de Vogels ran. In een Afstand vun twee Meter kiekt se jüm bi't Freten to. Uns Deerten sünd satt.

Op unsen lütten Diek is dat Ies wull al twee Centimeter dick. Mütt een Lock insloon warrn, dormit de Fisch Suurstoff kriegt. Ober in de Eck bi de Besen, Pumpesels un de gelen Adeboorsbloom is al för noog Suurstoff sorgt.

Ober schall jo al warrer Dauwarrer komen. Gau is de witte Pracht denn vörbi. De Notuur bruukt ober noch mihr Küll. Tominnst mütt dat Thermometer noch mol een ganse Week 10 bet 15 Grood minus bringen, sünst geiht dat Ungeziefer nich koputt. Noch is de Sneemoond nich vörbi un de Iesmoond kummt iers; de kann noch Frost un Snee noog bringen. Is ümmer vun twee Sieden antokieken. Wi freit uns öber den Snee un de freedvulle Landschupp, un de Autofohrers hebbt mit de Gefohr, de Ies un Snee mit sik bringt, to kämpen. Is veel Unheel op uns Stroten posseert in de poor Doog. Dat Slimmste is ümmer, wenn denn noch Iesregen un Glatties dorto koomt. In Ameriko is dat mit den Snee gans slimm ween un ümmer noch. Mien Enkeldochder ut Kanada hett mi een E-mail schickt un dorvun schreben. Ok Toronto hett orig wat vun den Sneestörm afkregen.

Will höpen, datt mien Leser alltohoop mit hele Knoken dörch de poor Doog mit Snee dorvun komen sünd.

It is Snowing 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal  
(January 1999) 

I am sitting comfortably at my desk and am happy that Mother Holle is at long last giving her bedding a good old shaking. Mother Earth has slipped on a white dress -- a winter landscape as in my childhood days, except that the snow cover used to be thicker then. My friend, the old, tall chestnut tree, has put on a bride's dress. It is looking pretty. The little squirrel arrives every morning to pick up from its crotch in the tree the nuts that my husband has been putting there for it for years. It does not even have to do a lot of cracking. No, my Heinz pre-cracks the nuts for it with a nutcracker. It's so cute to watch it sit there munching! We must be dealing with the children and children's children of the first squirrel we fed.

Yes, there is a lot to be done when there is snow. To start with, my husband shovels snow in front of our house, on the paved path, out back into the garden toward the bird houses. Everything gets taken care of before we sit down for breakfast. What a lot of activity there is by the bird houses! The thrushes get some cut-up apples underneath the feeding house and are busily pecking away at them. There are sued balls hanging there for the titmice, but they have been deliberately hung up in such a way that the spotted woodpecker and his wife get to dine too. The breasts of the bullfinches (I have counted three of those) shine brightly from afar. Mrs. Bullfinch only gets to don a black bonnet.

There are so many goings-on in our garden that oftentimes our breakfast time gets extended to an hour, because we so much enjoy watching. As intently as we do, our cats -- there are four of them -- watch from the window sill. They do not chase after the birds even out in the garden. They watch them eat from a six-foot distance. Our animals are well-fed.

The ice must be nearly an inch thick on our little pond. You have got to hack a hole into it so the fish get some oxygen, but there is already enough oxygen in the corner by the rushes, the cattails and the yellow water lilies.

However, we are supposed to be getting a thaw. All the glory in white will be history in no time. But nature needs some more cold weather. At the very least, we should have a whole week of between 10 and 15 degrees below freezing; otherwise the vermin does not get killed off. January is not over yet, and February is only about to get here, and they can still bring sufficient frost and snow. There are two sides to every story. We delight in the snow and in the peaceful landscape, while motorists have to contend with the dangers that are associated with snow. There have been lots of calamities on the roads during these few days. The worst thing is always when there is freezing rain and slippery ice as well. There has been a lot of trouble with snow in America. My granddaughter sent me an email message from Canada and wrote about it. Also Toronto got more than its fair share of the snow storms.

I hope that all my readers have all survived these snowy days unscathed.

Dat sneit 

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(Sneimaand 1999) 

Kommodig sitt ik an miin schriivdisch un frai mi dat Frou Holle endlich maal de bedden soo richtig schueddelt. Mudder Eird' het 'n wittet kleid euver-smeten. 'n Winterlandschup as in miin kindertiid, bloots woyr de sneideek daarmaals hoyger. Miin fruend, de olde, grote kastanjenboum, het sik 'n bruutkleid an-trokken. Smuk suyt hei uut. Noch kumt de luette kateiker jeid ein morgen un haalt sik de neut uut siin astgavel dei miin man em daar al siit jaren rin-pakt. Hei bruukt ouk nich feel ruem tou knakken. Nei, miin Heinz gait foerher mit 'n neutknakker bii un knakt de neut an. Is dat soyt tou tou kiken wen hei an't muffeln is! Seker suend dat al de kinder un kindskinder fun d'n eirsden kateiker d'n wii foudert hevt.

Jaa, givt feel tou doun wen snei falt. Dat eirsde is dat miin man snei schueffelt foer uns huus', op d'n steinweg, naa d'n gaarn ruut naa de fagelhuys'. Allens wardt fersorgd eir wii uns tou d'n froystuek daal-sett. Wat 'n leven an de fagelhuys'! De drosseln hevt twai-sneen appeln uenner dat fouderhuus liggen un suend iverig daar bii tou pikken. Foer de meisen hingt kneudels, aver mit bedacht soo op-hungen dat de smukke buntspecht un siin frou ouk spisen keunt. De boss fun de doompaffen - drei hev ik teld - luecht wiid hin. Frou Pfäffin het bloots 'n swatte huuv' op.

'n Leven un driven is dat in unsen gaarn dat uns froystuekstiid faken op ein stuend uut-deend wardt wiil wii soo feel fraid' hevt tou tou kiken. Uns katten, feir an de tal, kiikt liik soo niip fun de finsterbank uut tou as wii. Suelvst in d'n gaarn jachtert sei nich achter de fagels ran. In 'n afstand fun twei meter kiikt sei juem bii't freten tou. Uns deirten suend sat.

Op unsen luetten diik is dat iis wul al twei tsentimeter dik. Muett 'n lok in-slaan warden daarmit de fisch suurstof kriigt. Aver in de ek bii de besen, pumpesels un de gelen adebaarsbloumen is al foer noug suurstof sorgd.

Aver schal jaa al warrer dauwarrer kamen. Gau is de witte pracht den foerbii. De natuur bruukt aver noch meir kuel. Tou minsd muett dat termometer noch maal 'n gansse week 10 [tain] bet 15 [foeftain] graad minus bringen; suenst gait dat ungetsifer nich kaput. Noch is de Sneimaand nich foerbii, un de Iismaand kumt eirsd; dei kan noch frost un snei noug bringen. Is uemmer fun twei siden an tou kiken. Wi frait uns euver d'n snei un de freidfulle landschup, un de autofarers hevt mit de gefaar, dei iis un snei mit sik bringt, tou kempen. Is feel unheil op uns straten paasseird in de paar daag'. Dat slimsde is uemmer wen den noch iisregen un glat-iis daar tou kaamt. In Amerika is dat mit d'n snei ganss slim ween un uemmer noch. Miin enkeldochder uut Kanada het mii 'n email schikd un daar fun schreven. Ouk Toronto het arig wat fun d'n sneistoerm af-kregen.

Wil heupen dat miin leser altouhoup mit heile knaken doerch de paar daag' mit snei daar fun kamen suend.

It is Snowing 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal  
(January 1999) 

I am sitting comfortably at my desk and am happy that Mother Holle is at long last giving her bedding a good old shaking. Mother Earth has slipped on a white dress -- a winter landscape as in my childhood days, except that the snow cover used to be thicker then. My friend, the old, tall chestnut tree, has put on a bride's dress. It is looking pretty. The little squirrel arrives every morning to pick up from its crotch in the tree the nuts that my husband has been putting there for it for years. It does not even have to do a lot of cracking. No, my Heinz pre-cracks the nuts for it with a nutcracker. It's so cute to watch it sit there munching! We must be dealing with the children and children's children of the first squirrel we fed.

Yes, there is a lot to be done when there is snow. To start with, my husband shovels snow in front of our house, on the paved path, out back into the garden toward the bird houses. Everything gets taken care of before we sit down for breakfast. What a lot of activity there is by the bird houses! The thrushes get some cut-up apples underneath the feeding house and are busily pecking away at them. There are sued balls hanging there for the titmice, but they have been deliberately hung up in such a way that the spotted woodpecker and his wife get to dine too. The breasts of the bullfinches (I have counted three of those) shine brightly from afar. Mrs. Bullfinch only gets to don a black bonnet.

There are so many goings-on in our garden that oftentimes our breakfast time gets extended to an hour, because we so much enjoy watching. As intently as we do, our cats -- there are four of them -- watch from the window sill. They do not chase after the birds even out in the garden. They watch them eat from a six-foot distance. Our animals are well-fed.

The ice must be nearly an inch thick on our little pond. You have got to hack a hole into it so the fish get some oxygen, but there is already enough oxygen in the corner by the rushes, the cattails and the yellow water lilies.

However, we are supposed to be getting a thaw. All the glory in white will be history in no time. But nature needs some more cold weather. At the very least, we should have a whole week of between 10 and 15 degrees below freezing; otherwise the vermin does not get killed off. January is not over yet, and February is only about to get here, and they can still bring sufficient frost and snow. There are two sides to every story. We delight in the snow and in the peaceful landscape, while motorists have to contend with the dangers that are associated with snow. There have been lots of calamities on the roads during these few days. The worst thing is always when there is freezing rain and slippery ice as well. There has been a lot of trouble with snow in America. My granddaughter sent me an email message from Canada and wrote about it. Also Toronto got more than its fair share of the snow storms.

I hope that all my readers have all survived these snowy days unscathed.