Brooke: Snowy window panes in Summit County (column)
Special to the Daily
She tossed her winter coat onto the wood chair that she sanded and stained last summer. Stomping off the slush, she pressed the toe of her left boot against the heel of her right, to remove them. To her, hands were used for important things but not for the kind of things other limbs could perform, after only a bit of practice.
As she left the mud room, she leaned down toward the new Walmart record player that she bought – not for her records but out of curiosity for the records left at the house by people she has never met. She gently lifted the needle of the record player, then let it fall, to kiss the sounds of a 1960s country music tune she hadn’t yet heard.
Letting the record start, she approached her loyal and loving pup, who was curled up in the pair of cotton curtain panels she had sewn and pressed a few days ago. Tammy Wynette’s “Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad” still on the record player, she scooped up her pup in one arm and the curtains in the other and marched toward the kitchen window.
It was the one window in the whole house that met the western light head-on, and it was time. The gluttony of sunshine over the past month, followed by the pesky enthusiasm from mountain bikers, was disrupting her entire social order. For her, winter meant having a relationship so tight with the snow plow driver that she could make him end-of-the-season thank you gifts. Her dreams of pining for fresh fallen flakes from her kitchen window, while sipping freshly ground coffee before skiing, was turning out to be nothing more than Suzy Snowflake folklore.
She was determined to get winter back and, if not, the snow — at least the ambient light. She set down her pup, but not the curtains, and reached for the drill. The drill was the only motorized tool she knew how to use outside of her car and the mower — she kept it close for sudden decorating inspiration. Using the kitchen chairs as a step stool, she drilled to secure the rod. Then, panel by panel, she delicately slipped each curtain onto the rod, letting them drape in natural form to block the western light.
Taking a step back to admire her work, her pup approached her with a pair of plaid ribbons in his mouth and a cheerful bark. Curious, she pulled back the curtains. For the first time in weeks, the grey skies moved in and the snow fluttered across the yard like butterflies. Smiling, she used the ribbons from her pup and proceeded to make a bow that synched the newly hung curtains back. She lifted her pup into her arms, and gazing at the snowfall, she whispered to him, “Well, maybe Suzy was just waiting for me to wrap the windows because this is definitely a gift.”
Taryn Brooke lives in Breckenridge.
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