Winterthorne

Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.

Adults, too, of course; it seemed that children were never allowed to do anything alone these days. He didn’t mind the adults, as long as they didn’t ruin the fun for the kids.

What a day that had been! A foot of snow had fallen overnight, and for once, it was the right kind of snow for building a snowman. Too often the snow was dry and fluffy; pretty, but pretty useless as far as snow crafts were concerned.

Winterthorne, of course, was an expert on all things snow-related. He knew all kinds of snow, from the icy, hard stuff to the tiny all-day flakes, to the big fluffy ones that look so pretty. Snowman snow was a special breed of snow.

That day after the snow, the sun came out and made the whole world sparkle. It was the kind of magical winter day that you usually only see on television: the kind where all the people stream out of their houses to play in the wintry wonderland. So many people! It had been very cold lately, and the people had been staying locked inside their warm houses. The sun was bright, though, and the people said it “felt warm,” even though it wasn’t. The snow storm had swooped in on a Thursday night, and everyone knew ahead of time that everything would be closed on Friday: no school, shops didn’t open, and office workers were told they could work from home. For the kids, it was a wonderful gift of a long weekend. They were determined to make the most of it.

They streamed out of their houses and filled the park with their shrieks and their laughter. They threw snowballs at each other and made snow forts, with flags made from rags and dish towels. They flopped into the snow, sinking down several inches, to make snow angels, until the park was ringed with a heavenly host. Although there was no hill in the park for sledding, the bigger kids pulled their little brothers and sisters - and a few cats and dogs - on sleds, round and round. One big black dog of indeterminate breed was enticed into bearing the sled rope around his neck and willingly playing sled dog for his boy and girl.

Finally the snowman building began; Winterthorne’s favorite part of winter. The snow packed easily, forming beautiful balls that grew and grew as the children rolled them around. As the snowballs got bigger, older, stronger children were recruited to roll them ever larger. Eventually the moms and dads were called in to help with the biggest ones.

Then came the suspenseful moment of the stacking. Would the snowball stay together, as the body was lifted to be placed on the base? Would one stay balanced on top of the other long enough for the swarm of children to pack in the snow to stick them together? Would the snowballs stay round? Was the bottom one big enough, the middle one too big? Was the head the right size?

Winterthorne helped as much as he could with his own creation. He used his snow magic to pull himself together, held his frost-breath while they worked on balancing his parts, concentrated on standing tall while the children pushed and patted him.

Once the snowballs were completed and stacked and packed together, the search began for the accessories: sticks for arms, stones for eyes. What about the nose? Did someone have a carrot they could use? The first try was too big; it was all Winterthorne could do to keep it from going straight through his head and coming out the other side. But after a break or two, his carrot-nose was just the right size.

The mouth, now; that was always a challenge. A pine cone? A spruce twig? There was no coal to be found, so they tried collecting bits of bark. Finally one of the littlest builders came up with a stick. It wasn’t a smile, but the children agreed it would have to do.

Plenty of clothes were volunteered to dress him up. Several children pulled off their scarves and hats to wrap and crown him. So many wanted him to wear theirs, that the children set up a schedule: these for today, those for tomorrow.

Finally he was done. Perfect! Winterthorne stood tall and proud. The children joined hands and danced in a circle around him, singing songs and laughing.

Finally the children were called home for supper and baths and bedtime. Winterthorne stood alone, guarding the snowy park.

The next day, the children came out to visit him. They played around him, pretending that he was a policeman, or a band director, or a teacher, or a wizard. (He liked being a wizard best.) They changed his hat and his scarf, and stuck mittens on his stick arms. The first few days - Saturday and Sunday - he had lots of company. But on Monday the children were back in school, and their parents were back at work, and no one had time to play with him. He spent his days remembering the fun when the children made him. He waited - patiently, silently, peacefully - and the days went by.

But today. Today he felt a change in the air. Could it be that another storm was coming? Another storm that would bring him company? Maybe the children would make another snowman! Oh, he hoped so!

Was that a snowflake? And another?

One by one, then ten by ten, then in countless numbers - the snow drifted gently down. And Winterthorne smiled.