Old Man Winter and Crazy Chinook by Bob Bartel

The crackle of the northern lights woke Old Man Winter long before the sun’s late rising. He flicked on the moon light, sat up in bed, stretched, and yawned a big yawn. A grey cloud filled the room, so thick he couldn’t see the foot of his bed. He stumbled to the door, swung it open, and the dancing, swirling fog filled the land, creating fragile frost crystals on grass and twigs and evergreen needles.

The fog lifted and disappeared. The sun was sleeping in again, as was its winter habit. The sun dogs, peeking out of their kennels over the horizon, saw Old Man Winter’s crystal kingdom and got so excited they pulled on their leashes, dragging the sun over the horizon. The crystals twinkled, and chickadees sang.

This could be a perfect winter’s day! Old Man Winter thought and set out to make it so.

He reached for the windbag for West Wind, who hadn’t been out for a week because of a bad cold. The wind peeked out. The brightness made his head ache.

“Time for fresh air!” Old Man Winter said. “It’s not healthy to be cooped up.”

West Wind coughed. “I feel rotten. Put me back.”

“Move around a bit, you’ll soon be yourself,” Old Man Winter said.

West Wind sighed, but began his stroll, eyes half-closed. His head pounded, His throat scratched. A coughing fit near a bluff of aspen trees shook the crystals from their branches, sparkling as they drifted to the earth.

Maybe getting rid of these crystals will help my headache, West Wind thought. Though the ill wind could only manage small puffs, he had enough air to force the sparkling frost to lose its grip on the trees and grasses.

Tired, West Wind begged permission to retire to the windbag. Old Man Winter let him in and tied up the bag. West Wind’s work didn’t displease him. The ice crystals feisty dance as they swirled earthward was a fitting end to the morning.

Some snow for the afternoon, he thought. He ordered snow pillows from the factory where computers ensured each flake was unique and had six points. But to make it snow, he needed to mix cold and warm air, so he decided to let North Wind and South Wind out at the same time.

These winds could come out dancing or fighting, so before he opened the bags, he started playing a recording of a waltz he’d composed: “A Perfect Winter’s Day.” Prancing in three-quarter time, he opened the North Wind’s stiff cold bag. He quickly told the wind he was letting out South Wind at the same time. North Wind blew back his hair to look his best.

South Wind’s bag opened with a puff of steam. With the waltz still playing, she and North Wind began circling each other, dancing counter-clockwise. It was a low-pressure situation.

Old Man Winter summoned the snow pillows, They hung overhead, dropping gentle snowflakes on the two dancers, like wedding confetti. It was so romantic Old Man Winter hated to send the winds back to their bags, but it was getting dark, and he wasn’t prepared to chaperone into the night.

With the winds tucked away, Old Man Winter pondered his perfect day. Dazzling morning crystals and gentle afternoon fluff, what could be better?

Deeply satisfied, he yawned and retired to his house. He put on his nightcap, turned down the thermostat, and crawled into bed.

But just as his eyes closed, the bedroom door crashed open. A figure rushed in and flicked on the light. “Come on, old man, get out of bed. Let’s party!”

Old Man Winter groaned. “Crazy Chinook, what are you doing here?”

A snowdrift curled over his forehead, and icicles hung from his ears and nose. He wore a red ski jacket, yellow Bermuda shorts, and flip-flops. “I’ve come to brighten your day!” he cried. “I’ve come to make you laugh!”

“I spent all day creating a perfect winter day. All you ever do is turn my wonderful winter paintings into mud and slush.”

Crazy Chinook’s laugh melted the frost on Old Man Winter’s beard and turned on the air conditioner. “You take everything too seriously!”

“I smile occasionally,” Old Man Winter said. “I’m reliable. You know when I’m coming. You show up without warning, make promises of spring, and then disappear and let the cold return. No one can count on you.”

“But, I laugh and have a good time!” Crazy Chinook smiled so widely one of his ear icicles fell off. “You’re too predictable. The night is young. Let’s have some fun!”

“I don’t think destroying my perfect winter day will be much fun.”

“Come on! I have an idea I think you’ll like.”

Reluctantly the old man hauled himself out of bed.

“This fluffy snow is the best kind,” Crazy Chinook said when they were outside. “I’m far from my mountain home, so I only have a little warm air left, but I think its enough.” Blowing softly, Crazy Chinook warmed the air until the snow became soft and sticky. “Quick!” he shouted. “Let the East wind out!”

“He hasn’t exercised in ages,” protested Old Man Winter. “He’ll come out like a raging bull.”

Crazy Chinook laughed. “Good!”

Old Man Winter slowly untied the bag, hoping he could ease out East Wind. But East Wind blew out so hard Old Man Winter fell on his back. Then the angry wind swooped down and attacked the sticky snow, sending small lumps scurrying across the field. These pieces grew into snow rollers, like hundreds of incomplete snowmen. East Wind then froze them solid with an icy blast and blew out the centers of a few, so they looked like frozen doughnuts.

Winded, East Wind returned quietly to the windbag, which Old Man Winter quickly tied shut.

“Well, did you have fun?” Crazy Chinook asked.

Old Man Winter looked at the snowman beginnings and the giant white doughnuts scattered across the land. He grinned, started to giggle, and finally fell backward into a snowdrift, laughing so hard tears ran down his cheeks.

Crazy chinook cackled and disappeared.

Old Man Winter hadn’t felt so good for a long time. Instead of going to bed, he jumped into another snowdrift and made a snow angel. When he got comfortable, he watched the Northern Lights dance until he drifted off to sleep.

It had been, indeed, a perfect winter day.