A snow princess is rescued and offers a different tale
“Out of the bosom of the air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow descends the snow.”
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
* * *
We love our snow.
I am reminded of a co-worker here at the office who waxes eloquently about how she loves the snow.
It descends upon us, softening the angles of our environment. It can come with all the stealth of a cat.
It’s solemn.
It’s silent.
It’s pure.
Snow can be a romanticist’s reason to snuggle by a fire as the botanic blossom of spring and summer has been snuffed out by its blanket.
Indeed. We love our snow, that is, of course, unless you have to drive on the nasty, wicked, and oftened blackened ice that can be so very treacherous.
Funny thing happened Thursday morning, as another abnormally warm “January thaw” descended upon our valley.
A co-worker who normally joyfully announces, “Oh, good, it’s snowing” to a chorus of boos from the rest in the office, got stuck on her way to work. She had to be rescued by her husband, who somehow managed to make it to his place of employment.
Yes, this soothsayer of snow, this woman who waxes so wonderfully of the wintery white woolen-like wrap had suddenly lost her affection for the white stuff.
“I got stuck in my driveway,” she lamented, slamming her keys on her desk. “I’m going to the courthouse and give ’em a piece of my mind.”
I thought about saying something clever, like “hold on, snow princess,” but I think at that point the humor may have been lost in that delivery.
In an instant, gone was her affection, the love of the magnificence of every individual snowflake.
Now, these beautiful ice crystals have given cause for rescue.
Her rescue.
For most of us in the office, the turnabout was a terrific anecdote to enjoy on a production day, except for another co-worker who may have damaged the spoiler on the front of her car plowing through the loosened, suddenly soft ice that has covered our streets in Wood Way Park for months.
We are a tight-knit group here at the office, and to say we enjoy sharing in the life stories of our co-workers is a vast understatement.
It is afterall, life.
And life’s true stories are what we write about here every day.
Some of them are just a little more humorous than the rest.
(Alan Lewis Gerstenecker is editor of The Western News. His column appears weekly.)