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.
| 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.This is a repost of 2014 and 2021. | |
