black rook in rainy weather essay

• Black Rook In Rainy Weather
• Sylvia Plath

On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain. I do not expect a miracle Or an accident

To set the sight on fire In my eye, nor seek Any more in the desultory weather some design, But let spotted leaves fall as they fall, Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can’t honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then — Thus hallowing an interval Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor, One might say love. At any rate, I now walk Wary (for it could happen Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical, Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook Ordering its black feathers can so shine As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality. With luck, Trekking stubborn through this season Of fatigue, I shall Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur, If you care to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait’s begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Sylvia Plath's poem Black Rook In Rainy Weather

One of my favorite poems! I remember what a revelation it was when I first discovered that it was a “form” poem, namely rimas dissolutas. The first line of each stanza rhymes, the second line of each stanza rhymes, the third line of each stanza rhymes, etc. In addition, she uses mostly slant rhyme throughout. Plath was a master of slant rhyme and extremely knowledgeable about form. Putting it all together in a poem like this is nothing short of a masterpiece. For another fine example of rimas dissolutas, look up “A Renewal” by James Merrill.

I agree with the comments here about reading this poem literally–all poets recognise what she meant by that moment when a thing or even a word suddenly has a special radiance about it.

In addition to the brilliant theme of Plath’s poem, I celebrate its technicality. It is masterfully done, a free verse poem which establishes its own patterns, moving from one stanza into the next across the space between them on a line which seems to move through the whole poem, creating a forward rush or a sense of something vitally important, leaving a reader almost breathless. In addition, the rhyme sound at the end of each stanza echoes like a tolling bell, a musicality which enriches the piece wonderfully. (I guess it’s pretty clear that this is one of my favourite poems in the language!)

The main feeling I got from this poem was the desire Sylvia Plath had for moments of meaning, moments of insight and and inspiration. Sylvia was a woman who lived on writing, a vast majority of this i think, confessional poerty. She was a woman who lived by writing in poetry about her feelings, her experiences, her thoughts and moods. She expressed herself through her poetry. The main idea that was presented to me from this poem was Sylvia lived, stayed, for the moments of inspiration. She could not survive on just the ordinary, just the nice and simple, or as she saw it mundane. She needed moments of understanding, she needed more than normal, more than what she saw as mediocrity almost. She needed inspiration, or she felt that life was barren. This poem was almost a fight with herself, at the beginning she denies the fact that she is waiting for something, “I do not expect a miracle, or an accident.” She is trying to kid herself, trying to control her impulses and wants. She says “Let spotted leaves fall as they fall, without ceremony or portent,” which is metaphorically her saying “I will just let things be, not try to change or act, or want more.” The large BUT comes through however, when she talks of how she desires some backtalk from the mute sky. She can’t control herself, even when she tries and wants to. She can’t reatin that normalcy, that lack of control and longing. From that point onwards her denail slips away slowly, and she speaks only of the inspiration she is looking for, of “whatever angel may choose to flare. She finally finds that moment she’s been waiting for, of understanding, of almost momentary fulfillment. The trouble is, she knows it’s just momentary. She knows soon enough she will descend to that low mood, and that she will once again have to wait for another moment of inspiration.

I agree 100% thus was great!

In an age without many superstitions, we look to nature and the world around us for an explanation of our lives; in any event, we see only science’s cause and effect–life is merely the combination of chemicals in the correct amounts, leaves fall because of the natural processes associated with the changing of the seasons, and a black rook arranges its feathers in the rain . . . it’s all natural and easily explained by science. But there are many things that science cannot explain, and many longings that it will never satisfy: it cannot explain our emotions–why a particular sight or smell causes inspiration, nostalgia, or dread; it cannot explain our longing for the supernatural; it cannot explain our need for significance, nor can science give us significance. To science, leaves fall because they fall, lovely but useless, wasted. And even if scientists manage to isolate the chemicals that produce emotions, their explanation removes the wonder of the event without truly explaining it. For we are human, and we will always feel deep down inside that there must be more to life than merely what we can see and what science can tell us. Whether or not science agrees with us, we know that miracles do occur; and we long for them. The good news is that there is one person that can explain life in its entirety, infusing it with hope, purpose, and significance. He leaves no room for superstition; he allows science its proper place; yet he satisfies the soul with the miraculous. There is only one person out of the many people in the world–past, present, and future–who can do this: He is not bound by finite limitations. His name is Jesus Christ, the only wise God, the one who created the world and holds it together by the word of his power. Knowing him puts life into perspective and satisfies the soul, freeing us both from superstitious fears and from a sense of insignificance. To him all things are significant. Do you know him?

I see this rather more literally than others might; I’ve actually felt these moments Sylvia was describing. These are the times when life is not lived in shades of gray, when existence is not measured just by the sordid details of human existence. Suddenly, something changes the way you see the most mundane object, and there it is: the possibility of more, that what you believe to be truth is not really all there is.

I stumbled across this poem wholly by accident. It was the first return on my search for “feathers finding portent.” I feel that Sylvia, like me, spent her life waiting for meaning, hoping for something more than the “brief respite…from total neutrality.” For the “rare, random descent” of an angel, for “some backtalk from the mute sky.” Perhaps what doomed Sylvia was her inability to neither fully believe in miracles, nor to disbelieve.

i now u may not all agree with me but i feel that she was crying for help through her poems but nobody was there to help her and that is why she died so young. the reason i believe this is because “rook”= a crow like bird (repersenting death), Angel (angel of death)

This amazing poem is one of a handful of poems that I have committed to memory, because it vividly captures the act of writing poetry. It speaks of that moment of inspiration, when a black rook seizes the poet’s senses, “hauls her eyelids up” and “grants a brief respite from fear of total neutrality.” It is the moment that “a celestial burning” takes place and an “angel” descends, “that rare, random descent” when the poet is inspired by a common thing–a “kitchen table or chair,” a “rook ordering its feathers,” or “the most obtuse objects now and then.” It is interesting that Plath uses the language of spirituality–angels, “celestial burning,” “hallowing,” “miracles”–given her apparent atheism (“I do not expect … miracle to set the sight on fire in my eyes, nor seek any more in the desultory weather some design. . . .”). It is clear that poetry is all that she has to keep her from complete despair–a despair that, we know, managed to overtake her when she took her life: “With luck, trekking stubborn through this season of fatigue, I shall patch together a content of sorts.” The poet is confined to waiting for these random moments of inspiration—“those spasmodic tricks of radiance”– that provide for her the energy to keep going. The poem beautifully captures what poetry meant to Plath; the brutal honesty of it strips the act of writing to its bare essentials–that amazing moment all poets wait for, the moment of inspiration, when suddenly something is illuminated, and all there is to do is to write a poem about it, to capture that moment in language, to commemorate that blissful interval when they become a vehicle for transcendence. This is a poem that all poets should memorize, as it speaks directly to them, and for them.

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Words for dissemination … poetry commentary and selected poems … richard scutter, black rook in rainy weather – sylvia plath – analysis.

Black Rook in Rainy Weather

On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain- I do not expect a miracle Or an accident

To set the sight on fire In my eye, nor seek Any more in the desultory weather some design, But let spotted leaves fall as they fall Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can’t honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then — Thus hallowing an interval Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honour One might say love. At any rate, I now walk Wary (for it could happen Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical Yet politic, ignorant

Of whatever angel any choose to flare Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook Ordering its black feathers can so shine As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality. With luck, Trekking stubborn through this season Of fatigue, I shall Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur. If you care to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance Miracles. The wait’s begun again, The long wait for the angel,

For that rare, random descent.

Sylvia Plath (1957)

This poem was written in 1956 and published in 1957 when Sylvia Plath would have been about 24 years old. She had married Ted Hughes in June 1956 (Bloomsbury Day) and she would have been living in England (Cambridge) and studying. It was the first SP poem that I read and prompted me to find out more about her – and that lead to discovering the relationship with Ted Hughes.

Here is a link to a You-Tube audio of SP reading this poem

Ostensibly this is a poem about boredom and living in a dull wintry environment with no respite from the depressing English weather … ( even in this dull, ruinous landscape ), remembering too that SP was used to ‘Boston’ weather. But at times miracles occur and simple objects radiate a heavenly aspect. However there are long waits for such happenings – ( for that rare random descent ).

For me her words underscore the nature of bipolar depression, albeit with a somewhat philosophic acceptance, – the many days of depression broken by an occasional intense high before the onset of many more depressive days. In this regard it is a poem which resonates and I placed a post on the ‘Sylvia Plath Forum’ several years ago which gives an explanation. Here is the link … (you will have to scroll to the archived Post for 27 October 2001).

And I do I like the choice of her words … well poetry was her vocation and she spent much thought in the use of words in expressing her poetic voice. And unlike many SP poems this poem is readily accessible as well as being an honest reflection on her state of mind.

Desultory – unfocused, aimless Portent – sign, omen Largesse – generosity, benevolence Politic – tactful, diplomatic Incandescent – luminous, radiant Inconsequent – unimportant, insignificant Celestial – heavenly, holy

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Black Rook In Rainy Weather - Sylvia Plath #

This can be read as a response to Ted Hughes The Hawk in the Rain, in what may be reciprocal contests. It appears to be her first impressions of the English countryside. The poem has many other antecedents like Edgar Alan Poe’s The Raven, Alfred Lord Tennyson’s The Eagle, or less likely Gerard Manly Hopkins’ The Windhover.

Sylvia Plath writes evocatively about landscapes and nature. Compared to Hughes, hers is more of a quest rather than an affirmation or a declamatory assertion of nature. While hers is a search for communion and meaning, his appears to be claim of having found it. Plath looks for soothing confirmation, while Hughes sees the savage, brutal ruthless aspects of survival. Plath is looking for creative inspiration, expecting little, so content when she finds it. Hughes demands it as his entitlement.

Plath uses natural imagery, not in the benevolent Romantic tradition, rather recognising its sinister possibilities. The Rook is personified perhaps as a contrast or comparison to the persona.

Black Rook In Rainy Weather #

On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain- I do not expect a miracle Or an accident To set the sight on fire In my eye, nor seek Any more in the desultory weather some design, But let spotted leaves fall as they fall Without ceremony, or portent. Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can’t honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then — Thus hallowing an interval Otherwise inconsequent By bestowing largesse, honor One might say love. At any rate, I now walk Wary (for it could happen Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical Yet politic, ignorant Of whatever angel any choose to flare Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook Ordering its black feathers can so shine As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality. With luck, Trekking stubborn through this season Of fatigue, I shall Patch together a content Of sorts. Miracles occur. If you care to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance Miracles. The wait’s begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

Language of Black Rook in Rainy Weather #

The lack of an article suggests any or all Rooks. Like Poe’s The Raven, the atmosphere is languid, dull and dreary until stirred by a bird - a stimulus from above.

The language is formal rather than relaxed and conversational. Words like “desultory, portent, largesse, incandescent, inconsequence, obtuse and celestial” demand some effort. Is she searching for inspiration?

Like Poe’s The Raven or Hughes The Thought Fox, this could be a meta poem, one that writes itself. The repetition of Miracle suggests success.

References to light - “fire, minor light, incandescent, celestial burning, flare, shine, and radiance”, could indicate a break through.

Ordering its black feathers can so shine

As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality.

There seems to be a positive tone or attitude of the poet that nature will provide her the inspiration and resilience to produce creative energy, by seizing her senses and forcing her eyes to observe and give hope.

internal.org poets

Black rook in rainy weather, by sylvia plath.

PoetryVerse

Sylvia Plath

Black rook in rainy weather.

On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain- I do not expect a miracle Or an accident To set the sight on fire In my eye, nor seek Any more in the desultory weather some design, But let spotted leaves fall as they fall Without ceremony, or portent. Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then -- Thus hallowing an interval Otherwise inconsequent By bestowing largesse, honor One might say love. At any rate, I now walk Wary (for it could happen Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical Yet politic, ignorant Of whatever angel any choose to flare Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook Ordering its black feathers can so shine As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality. With luck, Trekking stubborn through this season Of fatigue, I shall Patch together a content Of sorts. Miracles occur. If you care to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance Miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

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Sylvia Plath’s “Black Rook in Rainy Weather” Analogized 

The majority of Sylvia Plath’s existence was a chronic struggle between life and death. She was known to be a manic depressive; her own husband claimed her death was inevitable. She tried willingly many times to end her own life and one day she finally succeeded in doing just that. Her poem “Black Rook in Rainy Weather,” is one of the many poems she wrote which reflects on the emotional, mental, and spiritual hardships she encountered while being alive. It is also a reflection of her lack of inspiration and her marriage to fellow poet Ted Hughes at the time which ended due to her suicidal actions. “Black Rook in Rainy Weather” gives us Plath struggling internally as she questions her values and her beliefs as well as nature & God because these are the things she looks to for inspiration. The poem examines Plath’s feelings through rhymes, its choice of diction, the structure of the poem, symbols throughout the poem as well as metaphors, recurring themes.  In the poem “Black Rook in Rainy Weather,” Sylvia Plath is the rook; she is a strong representation of the bird that is seen trying to rearrange its feathers in order to shine. The bird could also be a symbol of religion because she is waiting for a light to shine from it to validate her from her fear of neutrality and light is associated with the supernatural. The poem’s location could be seen as taking place outside on a rainy Autumn day and the speaker seems to be strolling by admiring this bird who just so happens to not only compare to Plath but also is inspiring to her. The bird is clearly black and black just so happens to be associated with the unknown or it can be a reminder of Plath’s depression. The poem makes Plath’s depression pretty apparent to readers. The color black is also a symbol of superiority, nothingness and distance so this black bird could be a reference to the distance between Plath and her husband because of the superiority he displays as a writer based mainly on his ability to be able to write without having to seek out influence while she has to. After all, Ted Hughes does have a poem called “Hawk Roosting” where he displays himself as this superior bird compared to Sylvia Plath who comes off as this hunched Black Rook sitting on a twig reassessing the confidence within itself. Ted displays all the things that Plath does not and this could be a contribution to her self-doubt.

Plath uses the word miracle very often in the poem for example, line four says “I do not expect a miracle or an accident,” we also see this in lines thirty-six through eight, “Miracles occur, if you care to call those spasmodic tricks of radiance miracles.” Is Plath making some kind of religious reference within these lines? It seems as if she is now looking to God to give her some kind of spiritual inspiration and that he, in her opinion did in fact give her this spiritual inspiration by the end of the poem. This is also ironic because Plath tried to commit suicide so many times but she still looks to God for help, she is, in a way, contradicting herself. Many different lines in the poem address religion as well, she uses words like angel & celestial and phrases such as the one in stanza three which says “Although I admit, I desire, some occasional backtalk from the mute sky.” Is she referring to God answering her prayers? Or referring to the heavens here? It is as if she is waiting for God to help her. She also does this in her reference to nature with quotes like “but let spotted leaves fall as they may without ceremony or portent,” “nor seek anymore in the desultory weather some design,” and “for it could happen even in this dull ruinous landscape.” Why does she seek out nature for inspiration when nature is unpredictable? She displays her knowledge of Mother Nature’s inconsistencies as she uses words to describe this inconsistence every time she talks about it. Her choice of diction includes words like spasmodic, random, without ceremony, portent, desultory, politic, occasionally and rare. All these words display the same exact meaning.

The genre of Sylvia Plath’s “Black Rook in Rainy Weather” is confessional because she is letting us into her personal life and life as a poet. She hints us in on her marriage, her mental illness, her view of religion, nature, and how & where she gets her inspiration. She gives us her without any barriers, we see who she is. She shows us how frustrated she is as an artist and that she has to gain her creativity back, her purpose, otherwise life itself would not be worth living because she is not living out her passion. She also shows us how she turns to the supernatural to get this creativity back here instead of waiting on nature or using the things she sees around her to spark her rhythm again. She is again contradicting herself here because she first focuses on science to help her but then turns to God. It is as if she is struggling in what she believes in. Some people believe in science and some believe in religion and the speaker references both in the poem.

The recurring themes in the poem include nothingness, death, darkness, and light, loss of inspiration, religion, science, doubt and desire. Stanza five refers to most of the themes itself “By bestowing largesse, honor, one might say love. At any rate, I now walk Wary (for it could happen even in this dull, ruinous, landscape); skeptical, yet politic; ignorant. Her use of words like dull which refer to darkness or haziness, walk wary which refers to cautiousness as if she is in the dark and cannot see what is in front of her, this also connects back to how she sees nature, how she cannot achieve her inspiration here so she seeks it out in religion. It is kind of like she is stuck in the dark and can no longer see what makes her life worth living; she is blind to what makes her happy. When she says “skeptical, yet politic; ignorant,” it makes me think that she desires something to happen but is at the same time doubting that it can happen. She wants to regain her passion but at the same time she doubts herself.

The way that the poem is structured is with the consistency of five lines in each stanza, rhymes that occur at the end of every two stanzas and random rhymes within the poem that are there to show inconsistency as well to let us know that the poem is not perfect and that life is not either, the offbeat rhymes are like a curveball because we think that everything is consistent in the poem but in all actuality there is some inconsistency and chaos here. It is kind of like a reminder of Sylvia Plath, how she waited for these random acts of nature to occur or acts of God so that she could feel as if she understands the world around her again then gets disappointed because they are taking a little long but finds out that her wait is well worth it in the end. The rhymes every two stanzas end with words like accident, portent, and incandescent, inconsequent, while random rhymes in the poem include words like there, chair, fire and desire.

Sylvia Plath’s life was determined by the world around her and if it did not make sense to her, she waited for it to make sense. Although her love life and beliefs added to this waiting, she came out a better writer and much more inspired. This waiting is what made her one of the greatest poets of all time, her works are still being read all over the world today and her inspiration could be an inspiration to someone else battling depression. Although she eventually gave up on waiting and took her own life she is still remembered for who she really was because she never sugar coated this in her work for anyone. She showed us that even though she was fighting herself, she could still do what she loved.

Works Cited

1.) “Poetry Magazine: Sylvia Plath Biography.” Editorial. PoetryFoundation.org,

 n.d.web.20.Nov.2015

2.) “Hawk Roosting by Ted Hughes: Summary and critical analysis.” Education.BachelorandMaster.com,n.d.web.21.Nov.2015

3.) Koren, Yehuda and Neger Eilat. “Written out of History.” Education.thegaurdian.com,19

   Oct. 2006.web.Nov.23.Nov.2015

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Margaret Dickie: On "Black Rook in Rainy Weather"

The rook in Plath's poem, arranging and rearranging its feathers, seems like the fastidious spinster in comparison with Hughes's hawk. It is an object set out on the landscape for no particular purpose, because Plath's real desire is "some backtalk/ From the mute sky." Neither rook nor sky speaks, but the walker is very wordy, full of parenthetical phrases ("Although, I admit, I desire," "At any rate, I now walk"), concerned not with the actual landscape but with her own thoughts. She finally reattaches these thoughts to the landscape by saying,

                    I only know that a rook Ordering its black feathers can so shine As to seize my senses, haul My eyelids up, and grant   A brief respite from fear Of total neutrality.

The rook, then, is just a ploy, a common bird which serves only as the focus of a vision. No master-fulcrum of violence in this landscape will ever compare to "that rare, random descent" of radiance that hallows "an interval / Otherwise inconsequent."

[Yet] "Miracles occur," she suggests hopefully. The fear of total neutrality can be relieved by poetic vision . . . .

From Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. Copyright © 1979 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois.

Criticism Details

Sylvia Plath

Black rook in rainy weather.

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This man makes a pseudonym And crawls behind it like a worm. This woman on the telephone Says she is a man, not a woman. The mask increases, eats the worm,

(I) This is the sea, then, this great… How the sun’s poultice draws on my… Electrifyingly—colored sherbets, s… By pale girls, travel the air in s…

Hearing a white saint rave About a quintessential beauty Visible only to the paragon heart, I tried my sight on an apple-tree That for eccentric knob and wart

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They called the place Lookout Far… Back then, the sun Didn’t go down in such a hurry. H… Lit things, that lamp of the Poss… Wet yet

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He, hunger—strung, hard to slake, So fitted is for my black luck (With heat such as no man could ha… And yet keep kind) That all merit’s in being meat

The day you died I went into the… Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold… Like hieratic stones, and the grou… It was good for twenty years, that…

Haunched like a faun, he hooed From grove of moon—glint and fen—f… Until all owls in the twigged fore… Flapped black to look and brood On the call this man made.

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it— A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade,

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‘I Discovered That I Had Left My Tuxedo Shirt at Home’

A desperate measure at a desperate moment, a rainy day interview and more reader tales from New York City in this week’s Metropolitan Diary.

Tuxedo Trouble

Dear Diary:

In town for a black-tie wedding at the Plaza, my wife and I spent a leisurely afternoon enjoying an unseasonably warm December day.

When we got back to our room at a nearby hotel, I discovered that I had left my tuxedo shirt at home. I called down to the concierge and explained my situation.

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, you can run out and buy a shirt.”

“But the wedding is in a half-hour,” I replied.

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I hope you make it. Good luck.”

Running downstairs in search of a store, I passed through the lobby’s revolving doors and noticed that the bellmen were wearing white shirts.

I went back in.

“Excuse me,” I said to one who looked about my size. His name was Paul. “I’ve got a wedding in 25 minutes and no shirt. Can you help?”

He hesitated.

“What size are you?” he asked.

“Sixteen neck, 32 sleeve,” I said.

He disappeared through a side door and came out minutes later holding a freshly laundered white shirt, on a hanger no less.

I could have kissed him. Instead, I thanked him profusely and handed him $50.

After a late checkout the next morning, I found Paul to return the shirt and get my checked bags.

He asked about the wedding, and I joked that we had looked great together. He began to walk away and then turned back.

“Thanks for showing my shirt a good time last night,” he said.

— Barry Offitzer

I was waiting for a train at Columbus Circle and wearing my black-and-white paisley printed sneakers when a man sat down next to me.

He pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. It was the wallpaper in his bathroom. It had the same paisley print as my shoes.

— Gwendolyn Evans

Years back, my cousin recommended me for a job that she thought I was perfect for. I took my interview suit to the cleaners and got my shoes resoled.

On the day of the interview I made my way from the Bronx to Midtown. I hadn’t bothered to check the weather, and by the time I got off at Columbus Circle, it was pouring.

I bought an umbrella at the station, but the wind had turned it inside out before I reached Seventh Avenue, rendering it useless. I walked the rest of the way uncovered.

When I was a block away from the building I was going to, I felt a draft on my right foot. Looking down, I saw that the newly finished sole had separated and was coming off. With every step, it flapped down and dragged against the pavement.

I decided to remove it completely. The only thing separating my toes from the New York City streets now was a thin layer of fabric.

I finally arrived at my destination drenched, walking with a slight limp. I was a complete mess. The lone bright spot was that my portfolio had kept my résumé from getting wet.

I bombed the interview. Sitting in an air-conditioned office with a damp suit on, I could not focus. Feeling every thread of the carpeting against my toes didn’t help. My cousin never mentioned anything, but I can only imagine the feedback she received.

As I climbed the stairs at the subway station near home, the fabric at the bottom of the shoe finally gave way. I walked the three blocks home with my right foot completely exposed.

— Henry Suarez

Let’s say you accidentally drop the key for your bike lock through the sidewalk grate on a Friday afternoon in front of the Japanese market on Smith Street in Cobble Hill.

What are you going to do?

If you call 311, you will be told to ask the property owner to contact the utility company responsible for the grate to try to retrieve the key.

Or you can skip the red tape and go with duct tape instead. And a tape measure.

Wrap the duct tape sticky side out on the tip of the measure’s blade. Lower strategically. Apply slight pressure upon contact. Raise your prize slowly and carefully, inch by inch, like operating an arcade claw machine.

One final step: With key back in hand, celebrate with a high-spirited sidewalk jig.

— Nick Friedman

‘Here, Kitty’

My first apartment in New York City was a ground-floor studio in a prewar building on West End Avenue.

I was studying there one afternoon when I saw an older woman peering through the security bars on my window.

“Here, kitty, kitty!” she said.

Noticing me seated at the table near the window, she became startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to say hi to your cat. I speak to him every day when I walk by.”

I told her he was taking a nap but that I could take a message.

“Tell him I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said.

— Nassim Behi

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Temperature

Precipitation, weather elektrostal.

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Weather report for Elektrostal

Overnight into Wednesday a few clouds are expected, and some more clouds roll across on Wednesday morning. In the afternoon the weather is changing with a mix of clear and cloudy skies and a chance of showers. The sun will not be visible. The chance of precipitation is moderate or near 50%. Temperatures as high as 17 °C are foreseen. Overnight into Wednesday a gentle breeze is expected (12 to 20 km/h). Before noon expect a moderate breeze (20 to 29 km/h). Wednesday afternoon blows a fresh breeze (29 to 40 km/h). Gusts to 65 km/h are possible. Winds blowing overnight from Southeast and by day from South. The weather forecast for Elektrostal for Wednesday can be accurate in parts but deviations are expected. Check again for latest updates.

Pressure: 994 hPa

Timezone: MSK (UTC +03:00h)

Official severe weather warnings near Elektrostal

Weather anomaly: unusually mild weather for this time of the year.

By comparing today's temperatures to 40 years of historical data we can see whether today's forecast is unusually warm (red areas) or cold (blue areas). Coloured dots show observed actual temperatures from professional and private weather stations.

More Weather Maps

Meteogram - 5 days - Elektrostal

• Temperature chart with weather pictograms. The yellow background indicates daylight.
• Clouds in different altitudes: from few clouds (light grey) to overcast (dark grey). Dark blue bars show hourly precipitation and light blue showers. An asterisk indicates snow fall.
• Forecasts for wind speeds are blue and for gusts are green. The arrowheads point in the same direction as the wind.

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Current satellite and rain images for Elektrostal, Russia

The real-time satellite image combines visible light during daytime with infrared radiation during nighttime. At night, the image is not dark as infrared radiation can detect temperature differences. Unfortunately, low clouds and fog are difficult to distinguish from ground temperatures and thus can be almost invisible during the night. Meteosat satellite images for Europe are updated in real-time every 5 minutes. GOES-16/GOES-17 (North & South America) and Himawari (Asia) images update every 10 minutes.

© 2024 meteoblue, NOAA Satellites GOES-16 and EUMETSAT . Lightning data provided by nowcast .

Radar and precipitation nowcast for Elektrostal

The location marker is placed on Elektrostal. This animation shows the precipitation radar for the selected time range, as well as a 2h forecast . Orange crosses indicate lightning. Data provided by nowcast.de (available in USA, Europe, Australia). Drizzle or light snow fall might be invisible for the radar. Precipitation intensity is colour coded, ranging from turquoise to red.

Weather for popular places around Elektrostal

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• Ramenskoye 17 °C / 7 °C
• Yegor'yevsk 16 °C / 8 °C

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