Looking back at my frivolous and naïve platitudes about weather and snow over the past two years, and my personal thrill of Minnesota extremes, I stand humiliated and repentant. What a silly-billy idiot I was until now. Enchanted with the promise of drama and the magnitude of weather of which-I-knew not, I bloviated (yes, guilty) about the excitation of Mother Nature’s fury.
Forgive me. I now wonder if my silly enthusiasm was the catalyst for the hubris I now must own. Oh, sorry. WE must endure. For this snow is bearing down on the northern prairie with a vengeance fit for one and all.
Not to be all self-important about the possibility of my pitiful influence, but I did shout and celebrate and WOO-HOO about turbulence and bluster. I cheered on every little snowflake. I reveled and shouted with each clap of thunder. I knew not what I said and called for.
And here we are. April 15, 2013, two weeks to go until May, and Snowmegedden.
And not to suggest that I, personally, have magical powers. But there’s a part of me that feels a bit like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Remember the story? Goethe wrote it first, I believe, and Uncle Walt appropriated it for Mickey Mouse as a thrilling segment for Fantasia. Mickey, in the Disney version, gets weary of hauling pails of water and decides to experiment with some magic tricks he learned from his master. And of course, it all gets out of hand and disaster ensues until the sorcerer returns and puts it all to right, while admonishing that – “the powerful spirits should only be called by a Master.”
I did stand at my upper window throughout the winter, channeling the Snow Queen, surveying my wintry domain, reveling in the splendor. And I did even pour through the Hans Christian Anderson Tale, immersing myself in the lore and re-imagining it as a modern novel. Just this past February I wrote about referencing “the wonder of wafting flakes, the cushy clumps of white upon the evergreens, all the novelty of exotic climatology to a California girl.” And the joy “of a wintry trail across the prairie,” along with the comfort of “saying the word – BRRR – as you peek outside while rubbing your hands together as you smell the bouquet of baking ginger cookies.”
But enough is enough!
Words and thoughts are magic. I believe. I repent.
Starting today I’m lighting a candle and singing the praises of Idunn, Norse goddess of the Spring. I do believe, I do believe, I do believe . . .