Snow-making tree

Last night I stopped by a cocktail party. Cubed cheese, chilled white wine, impeccable decorations, snow falling outside the window. We don’t have snow a lot in Williamsburg, so afterward I was glad to be out in it. I drove home without actually seeing a road. About 9 o’clock, it was dark, yet the sky was lit in that more-snow’s-coming kind of pregnant way. A bright moon hidden behind the clouds. A stillness.

Bachelor farmer Wilson Bentley (1865-1931), the Snowflake Man, spent years photographing and cataloguing snowflakes

I began to get groceries out of the car.

Out of the night ran one of my little neighbors, Antonia. She jumped up and down. Tall and thin, she’s a human pogo stick.

“Miss Susan, did you know you have a snow-making tree?” she asked. “Here.”

Antonia walked up to one of the low-hanging magnolia limbs that we were standing under and gave it a pull. She was instantly showered in snow.

We tried another, larger, branch. Soon it became hysterically funny.

In an instant, Antonia was running back across the street to her house. “Good night, Miss Susan!”

Less than 90 seconds. A new way to look at a tree. A brief insight into borderless youth, where there’s always something new, always something amusing and brilliant.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Cheryl
    Dec 21, 2009 @ 09:03:38

    What a sweet story! Thanks for writing and sharing about another gift given my a child.


  2. Joi Rosengard
    Dec 27, 2009 @ 03:42:38

    First one I read. Nice! I can see it


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