During Wisconsin's most remarkably warm winter, we were privileged with a single weekend in March of perfect, sparkling, tree-dusting and snow-ball forming SNOW. My friend and I divined an image of the most beautiful snowgirl ever and busily set about bringing her to life! My, she was a beauty, being tall, regal and smiling. She was slightly mixed up about the seasons though (aren't we all this year?), for she begged to wear a sun hat and garden gloves (she couldn't wait to start planting flowers). We tried to warn her, reciting T.S. Eliot poetry that "April is the cruelest month," but she would hear none of it and just kept on smiling in her garden hat and gloves.
How reality must have hurt when she realized snowladies don't belong in 50 degree temperatures. We wished her farewell on Sunday, entrusting her to the care of my mother, who let her take up residence in her backyard. Only three days later, I received this tearful note from my mother, entitled "Parting is such sweet sorrow."
To all who feel caught between the seasons,
Christina
How reality must have hurt when she realized snowladies don't belong in 50 degree temperatures. We wished her farewell on Sunday, entrusting her to the care of my mother, who let her take up residence in her backyard. Only three days later, I received this tearful note from my mother, entitled "Parting is such sweet sorrow."
Christina,Eleanor, for that was her sweet name, was loved by all who met her. Though we miss her, we are grateful she melted peacefully into the earth. There she will help flowers grow - better than she could ever have perceived to do while above the ground. Tis the cycle of life for the snowman or snowlady. While their existence is a source of joy for those who meet them, their passing away brings new life for green things to grow.Every time I walked through the dining room on Monday, I caught a glimpse of Eleanor and smiled to myself, remembering how good it was to have you and Mike here on Sunday and to listen to your laughter. However, on Tuesday Eleanor let the warm weather go to her head. It wasn't long before her left eye was tearing up with joy, and then her mascara began running and her eyeball sunk a bit. By the afternoon she had completely "lost her head", poor soul. Today I can't find her anywhere. Just a few accessories...sob, sob.I forgot to save Mike's email. Perhaps you could forward my condolences to him.My love and sympathies,Mom
To all who feel caught between the seasons,
Christina
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