Marilynne's World

NOTE:  I’ve added a new category here:  The Story Teller.  It’s for stories like this one:  Sun on Snow.

This is just to get you in a snowy mood

There are times during a long cold snowy winter when the sun shines and everyone who can goes outside to enjoy it.  There are times when Spring is a breath of promise on one of those cold sunny days.

During my grade school years my family  lived in a row house on Emerald Street in Philadelphia.  It was a nice enough place to live.  My mother had lived in the city until she married my father.  My father had spent his summers on his grandfather’s farm.  She was from Ohio, my father was from Washington and Oregon.  She grew up in one sort of life.  He grew up in another.  He missed the West deep down in his heart.  As we were growing up, he told us wonderful stories of life in the West.

Then when I was ten we moved West.  We moved to a tiny town nestled among huge wheat ranches.  Now, instead of sidewalks and traffic lights, I lived a block from the edge of town.  The endless open land became my new playground.  We were like puppies released from our cage.  Suddenly there was so much to explore and I loved to explore more than almost anything.

So, jump ahead to my early teens.  I have lived in this little town long enough to have absorbed my new life.  I am old enough to have a lot of freedom.   It has been a very cold and snowy winter.  The sun is shining and must have been shining for a few days.  My friend Bunny is staying overnight and we are walking around town and talking.  Not doing much of anything, just enjoying being together in the sunshine.

Bunny lived on a farm.  I had grown up on my father’s stories of life on his grandfather’s farm.  My idea of living on a farm was my father’s memories of living on a farm, but I didn’t know that.  I would have been so happy to live on a farm like she did.  She, of course, admired living in town.  We were about even on that.

So, at loose ends on a cold sunny day, we found ourselves at the edge of town looking at an unbroken expanse of glistening white snow.  A crust had formed on the snow that was strong enough you could just walk on top of the snow, not slog through it.  I was delighted.  This was something new.  I convinced Bunny that we could walk on the crust a little ways along the fence line  (barbed wire) – when we could see it, the snow was deep -  and have a little hike.

It was glorious walking.  We just walked along chattering about who knows what and soon we’d gone farther than I intended.  Bunny was nervous about this.  At home on the farm they didn’t go on hikes in the fields.  They stayed home.   This was news to me, but I didn’t want to go back yet.  So I coaxed her along.

She was nervous.  Walking like this you could get lost.   I pointed out that we were following the fence line and it wasn’t going anywhere.  So we continued.

Then, we began breaking through the crust and falling into knee-deep snow.  At that point, I knew we were in trouble.  The sun was melting the crust and it would no longer hold our weight.  Time to turn around and go home, I told her.  I didn’t want my friend to know I’d goofed, so I just told her it was time to go back.

Now the going was difficult.  We had to step up onto the crust, wait for it to break, fall into the snow, then step up once more.  There seemed to be no way to just wade through it.  The crust was not strong enough to take our weight, but it was strong enough to keep us from just walking through it.

Bunny was already tired and she began to whine.  I was beginning to be scared.  We had come a long ways.  I couldn’t see the town from where we were.  I had broken one of my father’s rules:  never hike without letting someone know where you’re going.  No one knew we were here.  We were in trouble and it was up to me to get us out of it.

I’d like to think that Bunny didn’t realize how much trouble we were in.  I tried to comfort her by pointing out that we were headed back.  The fence was still there.  We could follow it.  And we could, one tedious step after another.  We began holding hands to support each other.  Then I was pulling Bunny along and she was complaining she was tired.

I knew we had to continue.  We couldn’t stop.  It didn’t take long for me to feel tired too.  This was hard work.  Bunny began to beg for us to sit and rest just a minute.  I knew we couldn’t do it.  The sun was beginning it’s slow descent into night.  The crust would soon harden, but we wouldn’t be able to see the fence.  We had to keep going.

So it became a long drawn-out time of wearily stepping up on the crust, falling through, stepping up again, and coaxing Bunny along.  It got darker and darker, colder and colder.  I saw the street lights of the town come on.  I was encouraged because I knew now how much further we had to go.  Bunny was getting difficult.  She wanted so badly to rest.  So did I, but didn’t they teach a farm girl anything?  You don’t rest until you’re in a safe place.

Eventually we staggered out onto the city streets and walked home – up hill.  My father had been out in the car searching the town for us.   Looking back, I guess that probably took him about 15 minutes a cycle.  My mother had called all my friends.  No one had seen us.  We had disappeared.  There was not even a foot print to show that we had followed the fence.  It had been up to me to get us back.  And it was me who had led us out into the cold.

I felt rather proud that I had led us out of a bad spot.  My mother was in tears.  My father threatened huge punishments, but mostly he lectured me on the dangers of doing what I had just done.  Yes, I got the full burden of their anger.  They knew who had been the leader and who had been the follower.

I was just glad to be warm and home.

Marilynne

Thanks to Woosi Wildwood for her snow photos.  That’s her llama in the background.