Winter’s seduction

It’s true. I can be seduced. But you can stop wiggling your eyebrows because for me, the seducer is the latest snowfall–whenever that happens to be.

So, when we got another six inches two days ago, in March, after a warm spell that had the grass showing for a while, I didn’t utter even the faintest protest. Instead, I stood with my nose glued to the window, watching the stuff drift slowly and sensuously onto the landscape, deckscape, yardscape and any other kind of -scape within reach.

All that activity, but no sound. The whole world visually transformed, but no noise, and not a lick of work required by any living being to make it so–until we begin feverish attempts to remove it, of course.

Until then, a virginal world awaits. Streets without tracks, unpolluted snow piles, ermine layers on tree branches, landscape and architecture transformed into ghostly silhouettes. It’s an untrammeled world, beckoning like a new lover, full of mystery and possibility.

It’s a seduction I never can resist. Even before the snow stops falling, I know what I’ll do: take my winter-loving beagle on a romp to explore this world-made-new, and take my camera along to remember this relationship that cannot last forever.

Two days ago, when spring seemed about to make an entrance, Winter spruced up and made his irresistible offer. I, a sucker for a snappy dresser, took his hand, left my cold-weary inhibitions behind, and went out on the town.

Like me, Lady is always ready for a tryst with winter. She bolted down the steps and out into the white, hauling me behind her at the end of her retractable leash. Nose down, she snow-plowed through the yard and out onto the narrow street in our park, sniffing, snorting, frolicking and acting like the puppy she once was.

No one else was out. Despite Lady’s chaperonage, Winter stroked my face with a cold finger and wet my lips with a snowflake kiss. We walked together past a world dipped in romance, stopping only long enough for me to take a photo here and there. As fickle as Winter can be this time of year, I knew I’d better capture the memories to relive later.

I was right. The next day, temperatures rose a bit, and today they’re even higher. Winter’s fancy duds now look like last year’s fashions-turned-rags, and Winter himself has evidently moved off to wherever he goes when the date is over. Even Lady is no longer impressed.

Winter will be back, though. If not this year, then next. He knows I can be seduced, and he’ll return to prove it.


About Monica Sawyn

I'm a retired newspaper reporter/columnist, and although I still freelance, I miss the weekly column I used to write. I still "see columns" in everyday life and need a place to put them after they're written--thus, this blog. I'm Catholic, have been a Benedictine oblate since 1977, and live with my husband and our beagle in Sturgeon Bay, Wis. When I'm not writing, I'm probably reading, sewing, taking photos or walking the dog.
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