The Adventures Of Annie Mometer
The poem below originated in a wartime publication called “The Breeze.” It was published by the Weather Bureau at the Southern Region Headquarters of the NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). I found it when googling Anne Mometer to determine how original that moniker even was.
Other poems from The Breeze can be found at the following link: Poems From “the Breeze”
If you haven’t already voted on where you think Anne Mometer (possibly the granddaughter of Annie Mometer?) works, please be sure to do so soon. Who is Anne Mometer? The results so far are fascinating (I peaked), but if you haven’t already, do vote. When voting stops, I will provide my analysis of the results and confirm where in fact Ms. Mometer works…
…Until then, I leave you with this lovely poem.
THE ADVENTURES OF ANNIE MOMETER
By Lorena Pepper, Ketchikan, Alaska
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, but Anne, and a mouse.
The gadgets were clean and shiny with care,
And Annie* was hoping that the night would be fair.
The offgoing observer had gone for the day
With visions of eggnog ‘fore hitting the hay.
Anne pulled off her kerchief; hung it up in the hall
And sat down to work (She was right on the ball.) –
When out on the grounds there arose such a clatter **
She sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
A cloud o’er the face of the moon was then going
Leaving just light enough to show Anne it was snowing.
More rapid than eagles to record it she flew
Though, beefing enroute at the change in the view.
She knew kids the next morning would shout with delight
But it snowed and it stopped, required specials all night.
At zero four hundred on Greenwich CT
Snow stopped, the sky got as clear as could be.
The alcohol dropped down to twenty below
But Anne took a pibal, waist deep in the snow.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work
And plotted the pibal; then turned with a jerk***
She tried to lay finger aside of her nose
But couldn’t quite make it; the finger was froze.
At zero eight hundred, came relief with a whistle
And Anne disappeared like the down of a thistle.
She was heard to exclaim, skirting snowdrifts so steep,
“Happy Christmas to others, for me just some sleep!”
* The observer on duty.
** Caused by snowflakes grating against each other as they fell.
*** She was too cold to turn smoothly.
In: “The Breeze.” Vol. 2, No. 11, December 10, 1945. P. 8.
Tags: NOAA, The Adventures of Annie Mometer, The Breeze, Who is Anne Mometer
Leave a Reply