A Snowman Made of Winter

Walking through the woods, a little boy came upon several rows of snowmen, hundreds of them, all standing in rank.  They stood up straight, looking forward and aloof.  Each was slightly distinct: some were more jovial than others, and some more slender.  Some were taller, and some shorter.  It also appeared that not all had gotten the scarf memo.  They stood there, intimidating still, in the middle of the woods. 

As the boy stood there staring at them, no less still than they were, a little bird flew in through the pine trees.  She was a winter Cardinal, bright red and alive with color.  After flitting about a bit, she landed abruptly on one of the snowmen’s spindly stick arms.  She hopped her way onto his shoulder and looked intently at the side of his round head.  Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him in a very curious manner. 

The Cardinal then hopped twice more, until she was immediately in front of the Snowman’s invisible ear.  Then she leaned in and, much to the little boy’s disbelief, she lifted her little wing to cover her beak. 

The Cardinal was whispering something to the Snowman.

It was only for a moment.  As soon as she finished, she hopped back once, looked at him steadily once more and then flew off into the pines.  After the little boy lost sight of the bird in the distance, he returned his eyes to the snowman, one of many in rank.  Suddenly, the little boy became aware of the fact that he had been holding his breath for a few moments now, in anticipation, he supposed, for the snowman’s response.  This thought made him scoff, and breathe out suddenly, laughing nervously.  He looked around to make sure no one saw him being so silly.  “What’d I expect,” he thought to himself, “He’s just a snowman.”

Returning his eyes to the snowman once again, his heart skipped a beat.

The snowman was staring at his stick hands. 

The little boy was certain that he was not in that position before.  He had undeniably moved.  Before the boy could react, the snowman began to move again.  Lifting his head slowly, he looked around at the other snowmen around him with an expression that looked remarkably like disbelief-its hard to be sure with mere coal and carrot as a means of expression.  The snowman rotated 360º, staring at his fellow men of snow, and then he looked to forward again. 

“What is this strange sensation?” the snowman thought to himself.

Suddenly awake to the substance of his being, the snowman breathed in deep and felt more than he had ever felt before.  Sensing a tickle but not seeing anything near him doing the tickling, he closed his eyes to discern from where it came.  It was the snow.  Snow was falling on a hillside near by, and this man of snow could feel it’s falling.  It was a delightfully odd sensation, to feel so far away.  The tickle of it all made him smile. 

Then, a sudden chill made him open his eyes again.  “And this?” he thought to himself.  Looking up to the sky now, he saw the clouds moving.  He closed his eyes again and felt himself rushing along the contours of the frozen planes.  He was the wind now, and he felt free.  He hugged himself in an excited chill. 

“HA!” he guffawed, immediately lifting his stick hand to his mouth in surprise at the loud noise he had just made.  He just felt a sudden jolt of energy that made him laugh, but where did it come from?  Closing his eyes again, he was catching on to how to perceive the things beyond his spot in the forest.  Smiling with his eyes closed, the snowman tried to pin point what it was he had felt, when suddenly it came to him…a snowball fight! A team of children in their school yard just started hurling snowballs at each other, and this delighted snowman felt each giggle and each puff of snow.  It was a rush, and it made him chuckle and sway his shoulders. 

The little boy could not believe his eyes, and as he grew increasingly amazed (and cold), he decided he needed to get out of there.  He jumped up from his spot and ran into the forest.  Dodging branches, and leaping over snowdrifts, he thought to him self, “I just saw a snowman move, laugh and dance!” Running farther and farther, and growing more and more tired, the little boys cheeks were turning red.  Just then, the Cardinal flew in front of him and landed on a branch just above his head, up the path a little.  The boy stopped in his tracks and looked at the bird with a blank stare. 

“What’d that bird say to the snowman?” he thought to himself. 

After a full minute of just staring at the bird in wonder, the boy caught his breath and regained a little courage.  He stepped up to the bird and offered it his finger to perch on.  He didn’t know, really, what to expect, but he figured he would at least try to see what the bird had to say.  He had, after all, just seen a snowman dance. 

The bird stepped on to the boy’s finger after cocking his head to the side again, and measuring up the boy just as she did to the snowman.  Pulling the bird closer to him on his hand, the boy smiled at the bird.  Then, he whispered, “Birdie, what did you say to that snowman in the woods? I’d really like to know.”

The bird just sat there with her feathers puffed out a bit, as birds tend to do in the cold.  The boy offered her part of his scarf, when she hopped off his hand and onto his shoulder.  The boy froze and gave her his full attention.

Then, the Cardinal whispered to him, “You are not merely a man of snow.  You are a man of Winter.”

Then as if punctuating her remark, she hopped once and flew away. 

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Unbeknownst to the snowmen in the woods, they are not made of snow.  That is what they think they are a made of, of course, and as a result, that is exactly how most of them live.  But, in reality, they are not men of snow.  They are men of Winter, made up of every facet of Winter’s majestic and blustery persona.  Thanks to a little bird in the woods, at least one Man of Winter has gotten wind of the true nature of his being, and now he rides the snowflakes in the wind.