A WINTER CONVERSATION

Me: (opening the front door) You again? Couldn’t you find somebody else to pester? Go away! I hate you.
Snow: (blowing in a little gust) Oh my! Such strong language. Hate is a terrible word, hardly a fitting emotion for a HOPE LADY. Tell me, what have I done to deserve this? Be frank, now. Bottled up feelings are best expressed if you want to have goodmental health.
Me: Don’t talk to me about mental health. I’m the expert here. What have you done? Let me tell you. First you fall all over everything. Then you drift from place to place. It goes on, every day, day after day. I’m sick of it, I tell you, sick of it!
Snow: (settling on the veranda) Well, I suppose you might see it that way. I have been around quite a lot lately. But you know, just for the record, today is the 21st of January, and there were 2 days in January when I didn’t drop any flakes on Edmonton.
Me: Well SORRY!!! Two days when you didn’t fall eh? Somehow I must have missed those.
Snow: (pressing the one-up advantage) Maybe you should think about the good things I’ve done for you.
Me: Like what?
Snow: (offering a one-of-a-kind flake from a pile near the mailbox) Well, I’ll be filling up the sloughs and ponds with fresh water come spring, won’t I? And I’ll be soaking into the ground to provide moisture for the tree roots, won’t I? Just because I’m not usually around in July, don’t think I’m not listening to you complain about the droughts.
Me: Okay. So you fill up the creeks and help the trees. I love all of that. But that’s months away and this is now. You’re here now, and I hate you! You make me miserable.
Snow: (thoughtfully whirling two flakes together) Well, I think there is some conflicting evidence.
Me: Give me some.
Snow: Okay. Is it not true that, at 8:11 on the morning of Monday, January 10, you were straddling a mountain of snow on the boulevard in front of Hope House, waving your arms and laughing hysterically?
Me: Of course it’s true. But what choice did I have. Somehow I had to get from the street to the front door. My feet weren’t touching solid ground and you were up to my hips. I had to wave my arms to keep you from filling up my purse. And as for laughing hysterically, what else could I do?
Snow: What else you ask? You could have stayed home. You could have been miserable. I submit there was little evidence of misery at that point.
Me: That was one brief moment, one moment in a terrible month. You’ve been causing trouble since the Hope House Christmas party on December 15.
Snow: (dripping a little icicle off the overhang) Some call it causing trouble. Some call it creating employment. Think of the crews clearing me off the mall roofs. Think of the snowplough operators. Think of the truckers. Think of all the City employees’ busy answering telephone complaints about the condition of their streets! Think of the newspaper reporters who have stories served up on silver shovels. They don’t even have to dig!!
Me: I’m sick of hearing stories about clogged streets. I’m sick of talking about snow. We’re all sick of it!
Snow (shifting a little) All is such a big word. Tell me now. Are the skiers complaining? Are the snowboarders complaining? Are the resort owners complaining? Is the travel industry suffering from a lack of people going south? No, my dear. You may be tired of me, but you are not all. Take Lawrence, for example.
Me: What about Lawrence, he’s been shovelling every day. It’s driving him crazy.
Snow: (Triumphant) And the day he didn’t have to shovel, what did he do? I’ll tell you what he did. He walked to the edge of the veranda, gazed out on the lawn, and jumped into the biggest drift he could see. He wanted to know how deep I was. Just for the record, I was up above his waist.
Me: (triumphant) Like I said, you’ve driven him crazy.

A win-win situation!