Narnia, Chapter VI
Beauty and the Chronicles of Narnia, the Other
Chapter VI
*First Winter*
It was cold. So very cold. Fortunately, the hot-burning wood stove worked as well as could be expected. Wood had been chainsawed, split, and stacked (another job that was portioned in during the construction), and little Sunwood was put to bed on the couch near the stove, dressed in his snowsuit. The fire was banked during the night so it wouldn’t need reloading, but heat output was therefore more limited. The cat’s water bowl froze in the kitchen which was the furthest from the heat.
They all stayed in most of that time. It usually was zero degrees or lower outside, which made their breath droplets freeze into vape-like smoke when they did venture out. Trees loudly gun-shot popped due to water channels inside the wood freezing and bursting. The windows frosted over causing lacy patterns to form. By February, the mom was intently rocking away in her chair, cutting out snowflakes and Scotch-taping them to the windows. Very pretty designs, I thought, and added a bit of cheer. Couldn’t ascertain her mood, though. A little somber, I guessed.
The kids played with the few toys and Beauty read stories to Sunwood, exercising her developing reading skills. The mom doggedly shoveled lots of snow from outside into a large washtub on the hot cookstove. Eventually enough melted in order to give the kids a bath. She plucked out the few floating leaves and sticks.
Popsi-Blui had plenty to do keeping the woodpile stocked as more wood than he had figured was needed. That first winter, he hadn’t really known how much to cut, and there hadn’t been much time for cutting anyhow. The next year and beyond it became a summer weekend project to amass the necessary 20 cords of wood. He would traipse around the woods dragging dead-fall over to be cut up. It was chain-saw noisy. I usually took a breather and flew over to the big bowl meadow to escape and hang out with my friends, the other invisible ones. That next summer three acres would be cleared and tree roots hauled away to make way for the replanted field and garden. They had left a good-sized patch of untouched and tangled weeds and bushes in the middle. The mom had insisted an area be left for the wild things. So appreciated, the mom. I liked her sensibilities.
Friends in Minneapolis gave them a ginger-colored cat named Molly who had needed a new home. They all loved her, especially the children. A lap cat, she had a sweet, rumbling purr, loved to be stroked, and offered what looked to be a friendly feline smile. She was a great mouser and kept the place mostly rodent-free. One mouse, however, eluded her. This mouse ran rampant in the kitchen at night. They bought a Have-a-Heart mousetrap, but as soon as it got trapped after eating the bit of cheese within, it somehow managed to escape. They called it Houdini. This happened over and over again until one day Popsi Blui was near the kitchen, heard the flap shut on the trap, rushed in and covered the movable chute with his hand, finally catching the little bugger. After releasing it outside, two nights later it was back. The next time it was caught again, the mom drove it thirty miles on the Ashland food co-op run before setting it free. Smart as it was, it ran directly to a big dumpster. Never saw or heard from Houdini again.
Over the course of time, they acquired two more cats, Whiskers and Sir Winston, who was black with a white beard. Very distinguished. They helped Molly eat the flying squirrels and mice. The mice often raced along and played above the burlap fabric which covered the second floor rafters. You could see them move as they bumped along. All the cats avoided the other furry little thing (a weasel?) that had somehow gained entrance, perhaps through an underground tunnel beneath the dirt floor? It disappeared on its own, probably by the same route as it had entered, intimidated by too much cat power, I assume.
One flying squirrel episode was especially thrilling, although it didn’t take much to entertain the house-bound little family. Entertaining it was and they all laughed about it for years, re-telling this story, even though it had a very sad ending.
This is what happened.
Popsi Blui was bringing in some firewood so the big door was open and the eight-foot long two-by-four used to keep the closed door secure was temporarily leaning against the workbench nearby. When he had first opened the door, he spotted the squirrel which had quickly run in from outside (as it turned out, trying to escape from the approaching cat) and disappeared. To the air he said, “You better not let Molly see you!” He hadn’t seen it run up to the top of the two-by-four. About then, Molly appeared from around the corner, obviously not having seen the squirrel, and slunk inside after having relieved herself during a little walk-about. She plopped down right next to the warm stove and proceeded to give herself a luxurious cat bath, very relaxed and comfortable, no doubt congratulating herself on how good she had it. Meanwhile, Popsi Blui finished his chore, still wondering whatever had happened to that squirrel, and lifted the two-by-four intending to replace it into the hook on the now closed door. Whereupon the squirrel, who had been reposing at the top of the two-by-four went flying onto the workbench. Molly immediately spotted the movement and watched with full cat attention as the squirrel lifted off again into air and landed within two inches of Molly’s front paw. She didn’t even blink. She captured that little creature in less than a micro-second. It was an awe-inspiring moment.
Next was heard a bit of contented bone crunching, a burp, and all that was left was a small heap of tail fur. Molly sauntered off for a contented nap, without even giving a thank you!
I kept well-away from all the cats. Though they rarely saw me because my wings flapped so quickly as to be invisible, they could feel the fanning effect and kept looking around to find the source. I imagined I would be a tasty little morsel, and, I suspect, it would have been a great game for them just to catch me! I was not keen to let them have their fun.
The next winter they would acquire (a bizarre story, for later), a black, bear-like, Newfoundlander. They named him Aslan, since their land was named Narnia. It seemed a fitting name for their protector, for protector he surely was. He kept the bears away for good, and every year patrolled the 40-acre perimeter of the land with Popsi Blui as he posted No Hunting posters on every single tree. He was also a very kind and friendly dog and Beauty and Sunwood loved him to death. He walked Beauty to the school bus stop at the parked truck every school day. Once he climbed aboard the bus with her and wouldn’t get off! She tried pushing him, talking to him, pleading with him, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, she got off, he followed, and she leaped back on, the driver quickly closing the doors. All the kids on the bus were highly amused as they had all been shouting and actively participating in helping to solve the difficulty. Children are always attentive and have happy responses to all that makes life exciting and unique.
At the end of the day, Aslan would hear the bus at the turnaround, and run off to escort Beauty back home again. Eventually when Sunwood was old enough, he took the bus, too.
So that first winter was lived through without serious mishap and they actually had many cozy moments. As the mountains of snow fell, storm after storm, the land became so very quiet. Hardly breathing at all. They reflected and marveled at all they had learned and accomplished. They really had had no idea of what to expect. In Little House on the Prairie, their only guide to winters in Wisconsin, Laura’s parents had tied rope, post to post, so that she could find her way around their farm in a blinding blizzard and not get lost. That idea had frightened them a bit, but it turned out not to be an issue. Once trails were established through the woods after the first snowfall and kept packed down thereafter, it was easy to see where they were going.
As the snow melted off the roof signaling the first sign of the coming spring, they all were more than ready. At each sunny day their imaginations took on more anticipation as to what might happen when the snow at last melted and a new round of activity commenced.
Beauty was to personally experience just what big event was to happen next, as Aslan had not yet arrived, and bear visits were still on the table.
