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| Snow happens. |
When cold blows in from
Canada, pushed up by warm wind from Texas, snow happens suddenly and
furiously. Only older siblings, big
enough to sink only to the knee and then leap into the snow face first, could
rejoice.
For two small children,
enjoyment was peering out through icy panes and wishing. Mom…Mom…Mom…Can
we go outside, too? Mom? Mom? Mom relented only when Mom became unbearable.
Two and four years old,
Mary and Bill were wrapped, bundled, booted, and mittened, then given
instructions: Stay on the porch. Both
nodded solemnly.
Mom
stood at the kitchen door, staring through the lacy ice crystals at five
children enjoying the snow. Then Bill launched
off the porch into deep white sea. Bill,
she sighed.
Stomping out the door, Mom
grabbed him by scruff of his coat and pulled him up. Then Mary whispered, “Mommy! Mommy!
Look! Fire in trees! Fire in snow!”
Fire in the trees? In the snow?
She beheld glorious cardinals perched in bare trees. Fiery cardinals with black masks. Brave cardinals in frigid air.
Mom hollered, “You kids get
in here. Been out long enough!” But she continued to watch until fire became scarlet
birds winging over snowy horizons.
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| Fire in the Trees For those bloggers in the beginning of a long winter, this story is about the snow of 1958, which has been called the mini-ice age. Keep warm, enjoy the beauty as much as you are able, and Merry Christmas. |
