Snowflakes, by Emily Dickinson

Snow flakes.

I counted till they danced so

Their slippers leaped the town,

And then I took a pencil

To note the rebels down.

And then they grew so jolly

I did resign the prig,

And ten of my once stately toes

Are marshaled for a jig!

*****

Today is the day before my husband’s birthday. He’s a January boy, he loves to ski, and this year a perfect snowstorm arrived in time to help me decorate the house and prepare for his birthday.

Many years ago, when my son was a grammar school boy, the fourth graders had an event called Business Hour. I think they had it once a month or so. During Business Hour, the kids traded arts and crafts or services or baked goods. They earned a form of wampum through completed homework, which they could use to buy anything during Business Hour, or they could just work out their own barter deals. I used to volunteer during Business Hour and ended up shopping most of the time because the kids created things that thrilled my soul.

I have always been a big fan of Kid Art. When you have Kid Art hanging in your house, the prig is constantly reminded to chill and the toes are kept loose for jigs, and the rebel spirit of kid confidence reminds me to infuse a little snowday joy into the times of my life.

All those years ago, I acquired a collection of hand-cut snowflakes from one of my son’s classmates at a Business Hour classroom trade show. Ever since, I have used the treasured collection to decorate the house for my husband’s birthday. I tape each snowflake, delicately, to the bay window near our winter dining area which looks out onto a snowy expanse of gardens where I love being distracted by the comings and goings of robins roosting in the juniper tree to eat the berries. We have a view of our barn, too, when we sit down to share our meals.

*****

Snowflakes. Harbingers of the happy dance. Here are some from my prized collection:

And here they are arranged in compositions on the window for our dining pleasure: