They sat around the fire dressed in layers of sweaters, coats, scarves and mittens. Frayed, shoddy, with boots stuffed with rags to keep out the snow.
Waiting for Spring; always waiting for Spring. Grumbling that she was late again. That winter bit deeper each day she lingered in the mountains.
Snow scudded clouds across grey skies; ice winds like needles against their cheeks. How could she keep them waiting? Did she not care?
Having too much fun, they thought; dawdling; sprinkling abundance elsewhere. Dropping warmth; dripping sunlight.
What if she did not come? What if winter was forever? Hell has frozen over, they complained, trapping them in the ice.
Each stick of wood reduced the pile; barely kept the cold from eating through their backs.
Then, far off, they thought they heard a lilting, a voice bright as a bell. Spring? Could she really be returning?
Each stood; straining to hear if it was her or a trick of the jokester winter wind.
Stamping feet; blowing on hands. Keeping hearts beating; blood pulsating for one more moment. Stretching into night.
Starscape, cold and cruel whirred above them. Winter stars, pricks of ice.
Then it came again, the sound of pure voice singing. Melting their frozen hearts. Spring was coming home. Their daughter was returning.
Dawdling, slogging, frozen creativity for tale weaver #159 : the coming of spring
image: diapicard via pixabay.com
March 4, 2018 at 5:48 am
I wish she would here home here please 💜💝❤️
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March 5, 2018 at 10:49 pm
Would be nice — the quote was said about me, btw. The rest of the story is my imagination working with it and Michael’s theme.
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March 6, 2018 at 2:19 am
This is so beautifully written Lorraine, I have read it three times and seen more each time. I meant to say in my first comment that I wish spring would arrive here too. Sadly all she is doing is dropping hints! 💜
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March 3, 2018 at 2:39 pm
The expectation of spring after a long harsh winter must be on so many people’s minds, especially after this past week over your way. For me spring is the gateway to the very hot days we have during our summer.
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March 5, 2018 at 10:52 pm
Yes, and our fall is the portal to the opposite extreme.
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