緬因之冬

【導(dǎo)讀】達(dá)納·王爾德被稱為“后院自然學(xué)家”，現(xiàn)居美國緬因州特洛伊市，其創(chuàng)作見于《科幻與奇幻小說》（Fantasy & Science Fiction，常簡稱為F&SF）、《阿西莫夫科幻雜志》（Asimovs）及《探索》（The Quest）。他最新的作品有《從夏至秋——緬因森林中的音符和守護(hù)神》（Summer to Fall： Notes and Numina in the Maine Woods）和《星云——后院宇宙學(xué)》（Nebulae： A Backyard Cosmography），其關(guān)于緬因州自然界的創(chuàng)作收錄于《車道另一頭》（The Other End of the Driveway）。

達(dá)納·王爾德曾在“冬之陰暗面”（The Dark Side of Winter）一文里有如此記述：“我記得很久以前讀到18世紀(jì)的移民為了逃避馬薩諸塞州的迫害而往緬因州方向逃亡，但沒多久，很多人就因其‘折膠墮指的冬又折返了回去。”（I remember reading long ago of 18th century settlers fleeing Maine-ward to escape oppressions in Massachusetts and many of them bouncing back because of “extremely harsh winters，” writes Dana Wilde.）下面這篇散文將讓讀者對緬因州“折膠墮指的冬”一斑見豹。原文“冬季衛(wèi)星”（Winter Moons）載于1996年第281卷第5期《北美評論》（The North American Review），本文為節(jié)選，標(biāo)題據(jù)節(jié)選內(nèi)容有改動(dòng)。

Here in Maine， winter is long and cold. In the past it was even longer and colder， or so memory and certain old people suggest. One of Thoreaus journal entries from before 1850 notes without surprise a fairly heavy snowfall in mid-April. That was in Massachusetts， which is still part of the temperate east. Farther north and east， beyond New Hampshire， the Saco River in southern Maine is the accepted anthropological divisor of the Eastern Woodlands region from the Eastern Subarctic region. “Subarctic” refers to a length and depth of winter freeze which is something less than polar. The limits of a subarctic winter might accurately be described as the months when snow can reasonably be expected to bury everything. And in earlier times， the months when food became scarce to nonexistent. Most of Maine drowses through winter from November to April.

By late January the cold has normally been so long and so thorough that its difficult even to stay awake. The ice grinds everything to a halt1， or so close to a halt that for all intents and purposes nothing happens. The roads are frozen， and so are your bones. Snow piles up everywhere， obliterating the driveway and the baseball diamond. In fields the only signs that anything ever lived are dead spokes of grass or a few uncut corn stalks， the occasional raccoon， fox or deer tracks in the snow. You dont want to go outside. You want to stay in where the heat is， smell the wood smoke or the dry， nylon odor of electric coils. The inner staleness of the kitchen， unventilated since October. A house is a core of warmth， like a burrow. It seems unutterably small after a while， but at least its not frozen. In the cold， we describe even the warm by what its not.

Cold is the absence of heat. Ice is that pervasive presence in the universe which signifies what is not. Sometimes on really arctic nights the ice—or maybe not the ice itself but its stillness and hardness—becomes fascinating， and I feel sucked outside to see the emptiness. Away from the artificial fires of western culture， which throw smoke and black soot all over chunky roadside snowbanks， the snow in the woods remains purely white， even during its porous melting period in March. The whiteness is a blankness， even more complete than on the ocean surface because it does not move. Billions of tiny frozen water crystals， motionless， piling up around the hemlocks and in the arms of pines， bluish in moon shadows. Everything suspended， waiting for the Sun to come up.

Especially at night. The air is emptied of moisture， and to breathe is to suck in pure cold， like blocks of ice tumbling into your lungs. In arctic cold， -10， -20 F2 and colder， a deep breath extinguishes the vascular heat in your chest， and a sharp pain creases your sternum. You breathe slowly to preserve the inner reserves of warmth.

I saw the emptiness completely one moonless January midnight when I walked across the pond to look at Orion. The camp road was slick with crushed powdery snow over a slab of ice. The stars were thick， like magnified crystals in the blackness. On the pond my boots blasted oblong impact pits into the glazed snow. I thought the pond must be frozen completely through to the bottom.

Everything seemed impregnable， as if the cold itself was insulation. In the first stages of freezing there is nervousness. When the chill penetrates your skin， you have a natural inclination to move， which for most people means shivering. As the cold filters further into your bones your body becomes calmer， and drowsiness takes over. A desire to succumb sets in， like a cat settling into a chair， and a fascination for sleep dulls the desire to survive. In its final phase， I imagine， it solidifies into a need to relinquish consciousness completely and become ice. Standing on the pond， binoculars in glove， I kept shivering. The emptiness yawned all around me. Flat， dark ice reposed like a moonscape， sometimes buckling and creaking as if the Earth itself could shiver. In a rough circle around the ponds edges loomed pointed giants， spruces and pines.

It was like standing in a still crater. Rim mountains spoked up all around me. The impact basin was flat， pocked with tiny holes. The arctic cold of the Earth， I thought， is the same as the Moons， or Tritons， or Charons. Absence is absence. Nothing is nothing. You can die of sleep as easily here as there. For a few minutes I relaxed. Stars plainly rising over a crater-rim scintillated on the edge of the absence， like the fat dreams that come before deep sleep. I was on a moon somewhere， becoming ice.

緬因州冬季漫長寒冷，據(jù)回憶和一些老人說，過去更長更冷。梭羅1850年前的一篇日志上不出意外記載了，4月中還下過相當(dāng)大的一場雪。那是在馬薩諸塞州，如今仍屬于氣候溫和的東部。再往北、往東，出了新罕布什爾州，就到了緬因州南部的薩科河，從人類學(xué)角度看，這條河是東部林區(qū)和東部亞北極地區(qū)公認(rèn)的分水嶺。“亞北極”指冬季冰凍的時(shí)長和程度只比極地略遜一籌。亞北極地區(qū)的冬季時(shí)限或可準(zhǔn)確描述為，可以合理預(yù)計(jì)雪能覆蓋一切的那幾個(gè)月;早期，則是食物變得稀缺乃至根本沒有食物的那幾個(gè)月。從11月到次年4月，緬因州大部分都在沉睡中度過整個(gè)冬季。

到1月底，已經(jīng)冷了那么久，一切都凍透了，想要保持清醒都很難。冰使得萬事萬物漸漸陷入停頓，或幾近停頓以至任何意圖和目的都無法達(dá)成。路全凍住了，連你的骨頭都凍住了。到處都堆著雪，擋住了車道，蓋住了棒球場。田野里，能顯示之前有活物存在的標(biāo)志只有一些死草樁或幾根沒收割的玉米稈，還有雪地里偶爾能看到的浣熊、狐貍或鹿的蹤跡。你不想出門，就想待在有暖氣的地方，聞著木頭燃燒的味道或電爐絲干燥的尼龍味。廚房從10月起就再未通風(fēng)，散發(fā)著陳腐味。房子像個(gè)洞穴，是溫暖的核心。待一陣子后，房子似乎小得無以名狀，但至少?zèng)]有凍住。寒冷的日子里，即使描述暖和，我們也會(huì)用不冷之類的詞兒。

冷即缺熱。冰在宇宙中無所不在，凸顯出非冰之物。極地之夜，冰有時(shí)真是讓人嘆服，也許不是冰，是它的那份寂靜與堅(jiān)硬，而我會(huì)被吸引，想出去看看這份空無。西方文化的人造火使得路邊敦實(shí)的雪堆上落滿了煙塵和黑色煙灰，林中雪遠(yuǎn)離這種火，即便在3月極具滲透性的融化期，仍可保持那份純潔的白。那種白是一種空，比海洋表面的空還要徹底，因?yàn)樗o止不動(dòng)。無數(shù)微小的冰晶，一動(dòng)不動(dòng)，堆在鐵杉周圍，落入松樹懷抱，在月影中微微泛藍(lán)。萬物懸停，靜候太陽升起。

夜晚尤甚，空氣中的濕氣被徹底清除，呼吸就是吸進(jìn)百分百的寒氣，就像一塊塊冰落進(jìn)肺里。就像北極的嚴(yán)寒，零下10或20華氏度，或者更冷，深吸一口氣，能把胸腔血管里的暖全部澆滅，寒冷的刺痛讓胸骨收縮。得慢慢呼吸才能保持體內(nèi)的溫度。

1月一個(gè)無月的午夜，我穿過池塘去觀察獵戶座，見識了那種徹底的空。營地的路很滑，路面大塊的冰上是細(xì)碎的雪。星星密布，像黑暗中被放大的水晶。池塘上，我的靴子在釉般光亮的雪面踏過，踩出了一個(gè)個(gè)橢圓形的坑。我想，池塘一定已經(jīng)凍到了池底。

每一樣?xùn)|西似乎都堅(jiān)不可摧，無法穿透，就好像寒冷本身是絕緣的。冰冷的最初階段是緊張。當(dāng)寒氣浸透肌膚，人自然而然會(huì)想動(dòng)，大多數(shù)人就會(huì)打顫。寒氣浸入骨髓時(shí)，身體會(huì)更平靜，睡意襲來。就此屈服的愿望油然而生，像貓蜷在椅中，對睡眠的迷戀削弱了生存的渴望。寒氣發(fā)作的最后階段，我想，它讓人徹底放棄意識而想變成冰。站在池塘上，戴著手套的手握著雙筒望遠(yuǎn)鏡，我不停地打顫。廣闊無邊的空無環(huán)繞著我。夜色浸染下的扁平的冰像月球表面，靜止不動(dòng)，時(shí)而咔吱作響，就好像地球本身也會(huì)顫栗。池塘周邊參差不齊，高聳的參天巨人——云杉和松樹——隱約可見。

仿若站在一個(gè)靜止的深坑里。四周山巒起伏。撞擊盆地看似平坦，表面布滿極小的孔。地球的極地之冷，我想，與月球或海衛(wèi)一或冥衛(wèi)一上的情形是一樣的吧。空即空，無即無。在哪兒可能都很容易一睡不起。有那么幾分鐘，我放松了下來。星星在坑邊朗朗升起，在空的邊沿閃爍，像沉睡前的酣夢。我身處宇宙某處的某顆衛(wèi)星，漸漸成冰。

（譯者單位：北京化工大學(xué)）

Funny Winter Jokes

—What is the best kind of breakfast cereal to eat in the winter？

—Frosted Flakes

—Where do snowmen put their money？

—Snowbanks

—How do you scare a snowman？

—Global Warming

—Why did the girl keep her trumpet out in the snow？

—Because she liked cool music

—What falls in the winter but never gets hurt？

—Snow

—What do you have in December that you cant have in any other month？

—The letter D

—What do snowmen call their offspring？

—Chill-dren

—How do mountains stay warm？

—Snowcaps

—Whats a snowmans favorite drink？

—Ice Tea

—How do snowmen greet one another？

—They say “Ice to meet you”！

—Whats the difference between a Christmas alphabet and the regular alphabet？

—The Christmas alphabet has Noel.