Winter Wonderland
one
She stared out of the snowy window, a look of sheer awe painted across her dainty features. Her gently sloping nose was pressed harshly upon the glass and every time she exhaled her breath created a small patch of fog. She lifted a gloved hand and wiped it away, regaining her oh-so-perfect view of the white wonderland.
“Oh, Michael, this is just beautiful,” she turned her face slightly so as to get a better look of her silent companion. “I can’t believe we’re actually here.”
Michael glanced towards her, taking in her captivated, yet somewhat astonished, expression before smiling and directing his attention back to the ‘road’ in front of him. Their old jeep swerved slightly every now and again on patches of ice that weren’t entirely covered by snow, but Michael never once let it reach the banks that towered above them. He silently thanked whichever god was listening for the snow chains he’d found in their neat little garage back in Oregon.
“Well, Sammie, this is it. Our home for the next month,” Michael said as he turned the jeep into the empty drive.
Sammie opened her door and stepped into the bracing Utah air. If possible, her eyes grew even wider and her jaw dropped behind her thick woollen scarf. A chill wind swept past them, and she instinctively threw her hand up to her head to stop her matching Ushanka being stolen from her fair head. She walked around the side of the cabin and took in the scenery.
Hills and mountains surrounded them, encircling their temporary home. They appeared to be brushing the clouds, caressing the sky almost, with their snow covered peaks. Pine trees were sat in large clumps at the bottom of them with the odd one or two trailing up to the snowy heavens, or were they trailing down, Sammie wondered. She supposed it was a matter of perspective, like optimists and pessimists and their half full or half empty glass. She resumed her observation of the building by walking around to the back yard. Her footsteps crunched on the tightly packed snow, but were muffled as she occasionally sunk into the fresher, finer powder.
“Oh this is just perfect,” Sammie said, adoration apparent in her voice as she walked towards the cluster of trees at the end of the yard. “I can’t believe Michael found this place; it’s heaven on Earth!”
A lone chair swing was nestled in the trees. The chains were covered in snow and the seat was blanketed by pine needles but Sammie didn’t care. It was perfect.
The pair was curled up on the cabins squashy, worn-out leather sofa. Sammie’s head was nestled into the crook of Michael’s arm and Michael was tucked into the arm of the sofa. Each had a mug of steaming hot chocolate, Sammie’s with marshmallows, Michael’s without. The fire was cracking away merrily and several blankets were strewn across the floor, the furniture and them.
“There’s a chair swing out back, did you know?” Sammie told Michael, wetting her top lip and curling her delicate fingers further around her mug. “We should use it some time.”
“I haven’t been round the back yet. Is there anything else out there?” He replied, readjusting his position so he was leaning away from his girlfriend, making it easier to see her face.
She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. A strand of blonde hair fell across her face and Michael brushed it away for her, his large, rough hand knocking into her slight, smooth one.
“Come on, I’ll show you it,” Sammie entwined their fingers, placed her half full – huh, I must be an optimist, she thought – mug down and pulled Michael up as she got the her feet.
As he slipped into his boots she slipped into her coat and they both pulled scarves, hats and gloves on. Once bundled up and ready to face the biting winter world, Sammie pulled open the heavy wooden door. The couple stepped onto the porch and Michael looked expectantly at Sammie.
“It’s this way,” she said, words muffled by that bloody sheep of a scarf, as Michael called it and tilting her head in the direction of the back yard.
“I should have brought my sketchpad out here, it’s breathtaking,” Michael commented, rubbing his hands together to create some kind of warmth.
“I’ll fetch it for you,” Sammie stood and outstretched her arm to prevent him from standing as well. “No, you stay here and think about what to paint. I’ll fetch it for you.”
She began making her way back to the house, slowed down by the fresh six inches of snow. Her jeans were soaked all the way up to her knees; fine, powdery flakes were falling into her boots and down her socks and her legs were going numb from the exposure to the air. She stopped to catch her breath, bent over and clutching her side.
“Who knew snow could be this tricky, eh?” She panted as she lifted her head, brushing aside the hair that that fallen into her eyes then gasped with hands flying to her mouth.
Before her stood a young doe, legs submerged in the fresh snow nearly to her knees and spread delicately in a position that any gymnast or ballerina would be proud – or jealous – of. She lifted her narrow head and shook the lingering snow from around her thin nose.
“Oh my,” Sammie barely breathed the words, in fear that her words would scare away the exquisite, willowy creature that stood so willingly in front of her. She dared take a step forward, wanting to see how far she could push the boundaries before the doe scuttled away into the dense thicket at the edge of the pine trees.
The animal took a step backwards and raised its head in a silent warning to the flabbergasted girl before it.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you, you’re safe,” Sammie carefully raised her hand and took a few more cautious steps forward. The deer snorted but made no other attempt to escape and Sammie closed the distance between them.
“You’re beautiful, aren’t you, girl?” she lightly placed her hand on the doe’s neck and stroked the thick, warm fur.
The doe jerked away from the foreign feeling of Sammie’s hand, hopping and skipping her way back to the safety of the tall pines and leaving the girl with her mouth hanging open.
“What took you so long?” Michael asked as Sammie passed him his sketchpad.
“A deer. A deer here, in our winter wonderland.
“Oh, Michael, this is just beautiful,” she turned her face slightly so as to get a better look of her silent companion. “I can’t believe we’re actually here.”
Michael glanced towards her, taking in her captivated, yet somewhat astonished, expression before smiling and directing his attention back to the ‘road’ in front of him. Their old jeep swerved slightly every now and again on patches of ice that weren’t entirely covered by snow, but Michael never once let it reach the banks that towered above them. He silently thanked whichever god was listening for the snow chains he’d found in their neat little garage back in Oregon.
“Well, Sammie, this is it. Our home for the next month,” Michael said as he turned the jeep into the empty drive.
Sammie opened her door and stepped into the bracing Utah air. If possible, her eyes grew even wider and her jaw dropped behind her thick woollen scarf. A chill wind swept past them, and she instinctively threw her hand up to her head to stop her matching Ushanka being stolen from her fair head. She walked around the side of the cabin and took in the scenery.
Hills and mountains surrounded them, encircling their temporary home. They appeared to be brushing the clouds, caressing the sky almost, with their snow covered peaks. Pine trees were sat in large clumps at the bottom of them with the odd one or two trailing up to the snowy heavens, or were they trailing down, Sammie wondered. She supposed it was a matter of perspective, like optimists and pessimists and their half full or half empty glass. She resumed her observation of the building by walking around to the back yard. Her footsteps crunched on the tightly packed snow, but were muffled as she occasionally sunk into the fresher, finer powder.
“Oh this is just perfect,” Sammie said, adoration apparent in her voice as she walked towards the cluster of trees at the end of the yard. “I can’t believe Michael found this place; it’s heaven on Earth!”
A lone chair swing was nestled in the trees. The chains were covered in snow and the seat was blanketed by pine needles but Sammie didn’t care. It was perfect.
The pair was curled up on the cabins squashy, worn-out leather sofa. Sammie’s head was nestled into the crook of Michael’s arm and Michael was tucked into the arm of the sofa. Each had a mug of steaming hot chocolate, Sammie’s with marshmallows, Michael’s without. The fire was cracking away merrily and several blankets were strewn across the floor, the furniture and them.
“There’s a chair swing out back, did you know?” Sammie told Michael, wetting her top lip and curling her delicate fingers further around her mug. “We should use it some time.”
“I haven’t been round the back yet. Is there anything else out there?” He replied, readjusting his position so he was leaning away from his girlfriend, making it easier to see her face.
She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. A strand of blonde hair fell across her face and Michael brushed it away for her, his large, rough hand knocking into her slight, smooth one.
“Come on, I’ll show you it,” Sammie entwined their fingers, placed her half full – huh, I must be an optimist, she thought – mug down and pulled Michael up as she got the her feet.
As he slipped into his boots she slipped into her coat and they both pulled scarves, hats and gloves on. Once bundled up and ready to face the biting winter world, Sammie pulled open the heavy wooden door. The couple stepped onto the porch and Michael looked expectantly at Sammie.
“It’s this way,” she said, words muffled by that bloody sheep of a scarf, as Michael called it and tilting her head in the direction of the back yard.
“I should have brought my sketchpad out here, it’s breathtaking,” Michael commented, rubbing his hands together to create some kind of warmth.
“I’ll fetch it for you,” Sammie stood and outstretched her arm to prevent him from standing as well. “No, you stay here and think about what to paint. I’ll fetch it for you.”
She began making her way back to the house, slowed down by the fresh six inches of snow. Her jeans were soaked all the way up to her knees; fine, powdery flakes were falling into her boots and down her socks and her legs were going numb from the exposure to the air. She stopped to catch her breath, bent over and clutching her side.
“Who knew snow could be this tricky, eh?” She panted as she lifted her head, brushing aside the hair that that fallen into her eyes then gasped with hands flying to her mouth.
Before her stood a young doe, legs submerged in the fresh snow nearly to her knees and spread delicately in a position that any gymnast or ballerina would be proud – or jealous – of. She lifted her narrow head and shook the lingering snow from around her thin nose.
“Oh my,” Sammie barely breathed the words, in fear that her words would scare away the exquisite, willowy creature that stood so willingly in front of her. She dared take a step forward, wanting to see how far she could push the boundaries before the doe scuttled away into the dense thicket at the edge of the pine trees.
The animal took a step backwards and raised its head in a silent warning to the flabbergasted girl before it.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you, you’re safe,” Sammie carefully raised her hand and took a few more cautious steps forward. The deer snorted but made no other attempt to escape and Sammie closed the distance between them.
“You’re beautiful, aren’t you, girl?” she lightly placed her hand on the doe’s neck and stroked the thick, warm fur.
The doe jerked away from the foreign feeling of Sammie’s hand, hopping and skipping her way back to the safety of the tall pines and leaving the girl with her mouth hanging open.
“What took you so long?” Michael asked as Sammie passed him his sketchpad.
“A deer. A deer here, in our winter wonderland.