Christmas Snows, Christmas Winds

BYU Studies Quarterly Volume 15 | Issue 1 Article 5 1-1-1975 Christmas Snows, Christmas Winds Donald R. Marshall Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/byusq Recommended Citation Marshall, Donald R. (1975) "Christmas Snows, Christmas Winds," BYU Studies Quarterly: Vol. 15 : Iss. 1 , Article 5. Available at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/byusq/vol15/iss1/5 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the All Journals at BYU ScholarsArchive. It has been accepted for inclusion in BYU Studies Quarterly by an authorized editor of BYU ScholarsArchive. For more information, please contact , . Marshall: Christmas Snows, Christmas Winds christmas snows christmas winds donald R marshall the snow fell today in the streets where trucks and buses spun it into a gray wet spray and left it splattered on parked cars and curbs pantlegs pant legs and soggy shoes and 1I feel that it must be falling now too somewhere on the fields and the fence posts and that somewhere out there tonight when the light turns an icy blue and the dusty snow slithers along the highway like smoke a black horse standing still in a white field will suddenly shiver and ripple its mane and maybe a lone figure in coat and overshoes will trudge across that cold expanse with a pail of oats puffs of steam trailing in the brittle air 1I passed a window where the head of an electric santa claus rotated from side to side along the crowded sidewalks a loudspeaker blared fa la la la la over the muffled heads of passersby in a crowd on a corner 1I saw a child licking at a snowf clear red unicorn on a thin stick and the snowflakes snorflakes stung my cheeks and burned my eyes I1 remember those glass candy animals and I1 remember other things 1I remember the days the weeks the months of waiting interminable hours when december seemed worlds away I1 remember tinseled moments even before october s leaves had turned to blue gray smoke in the november air when a sudden woody smell of pine or the far off jingling of a bell sent crystal shatters of christmas tingling through my veins 1I remember the smell of the new sears and roebuck catalogue when it came and how the pages felt and how diversity assistant professor of humanities at brigham young un iversity university Iver lver sity is the author of the popular collection of short stories the rummage sale as reviewed in th this 1s issue the story printed here is from a new volume of his stories as yet untitled but soon to be released dr marshall 65 Published by BYU ScholarsArchive, 1975 1 BYU Studies Quarterly, Vol. 15, Iss. 1 [1975], Art. 5 66 reaching with some inexplicable power through the endless blur of days ahead it could steal a handful of christmas and scatter it instantly sugared and glittering before us on the parlor rug where we lay every page was christmas even a simple holly berries plaid bathrobe became magically invested with hollyberries and mistletoe and an ordinary pair of socks triggered immediately a chorus of carolers caro lers accompanied by chimes 1I remember the long afternoons at school when the radiator hissed and bare branches black against a chalky sky made soft tapping noises at the windows weary of making crayon Christmases on sheets of paper 1I would let my pencil plow a christmases little furrow of dirt from the cracks in the floor while 1I longed for the passing of weeks and waited for that special day and oram we would practice the songs for the christmas pro aram and I1 program would squirm restlessly on the little painted chairs excited by visions conjured by musical fragments the little town of bethlehem lying so still with its dreamless sleep and its silent stars the three kings bearing gifts and traveling from afar and perhaps the most glorious of all in those days jolly old saint nicholas leaning his ear and promising not to tell a single soul after the endless days of painting and cutting and pasting parts and shellacking the secret gifts plaster of pacis paris plaques or wind chimes of glass rectangles dangling by yarn from a kerr lid would lie drying on the low shelves by the radiator while we filed in homemade costumes of rabbits or snowflakes tin soldiers or shepherds into the little rows of chairs to perform at last before the nebulous faces of relatives and townspeople in the darkened auditorium hark the herald angels sing we chanted the words to most of the carols garbled even to us and our minds forever straying to the glossy images in the sears catalogue then the program would be over and there would be no more going back to school for almost two weeks yet the waiting would go on only now it would continue in the home watching from the parlor window for the first sign of a snowflake carefully printing the letter and trusting it would reach the north pole in time studying the blackened flue of the fireplace and wondering how the whole miraculous thing could possibly be brought about I1 remember the days of christmas cardmaking card making my materials strewn out on the rug or set up temporarily on a bridge table but inevitably before the fire so that 1I could savor the piney smell and be as near as possible to the popping and crack https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/byusq/vol15/iss1/5 2 Marshall: Christmas Snows, Christmas Winds CHRISTMAS SNOWS CHRISTMAS WINDS 67 ling fire its sizzling sap seeming to whisper it s coming it s coming it s coming 1I recall the snips and scraps of colored cut out windows the obligpaper the homemade cards with cutout atory winter scenes drawn laboriously with colored pencils the village houses and steepled churches somehow owing more to calendar new hampshires vales and junctions marysvales Hamp shires than to the Marys circlevilles strung around me and Circlevilles 1I remember helping to shake the snow from the tree propped frozen against the porch and running behind as papa and my brothers dragged it inside through the door fearing that its branches would be broken and lamenting that its trunk must be shortened 1I remember my uneasiness as they grafted boughs in the empty spaces and my surprise and my joy at discovering pine cones and maybe even a bird s nest hidden somewhere in its upper branches 1I loved the dusty sweet and spicy smell loaned by the tree to the parlor 1I loved even the sugary pine gum that stuck to my fingers and resisted soap and water marna s maina giving way finally only to the salty slipperiness of mama butter and when the dusty boxes were brought up from the basement and opened on the parlor rug 1I loved the smell of the candles as we unwrapped them from their crumpled tissue 1I loved seeing each tangle of colored lights finally glow against the rug as we tightened every globe and tried each string in the socket to discover which burnt out bulb was holding back the others and I1 loved rediscovering each ornamental bell and ball old friends momentarily forgotten since that january day nearly a year before when (...truncated)