Old Woman Winter Knits

Happy New Year! We had a white Christmas, whiter than I can remember. It has been on my mind for two weeks.

Old Woman Winter
knitted a white blanket that covered the town. From her white hair the knots fell. All night and the next day the knots fell in spirals and swirls until the streets rejected cars and welcomed squealing children sledding on slide-easy hills. Houses sported roof wide shawls. Benches and bushes bore turbans. Lawns dozed deep under thick afgans and the telephone poles stood proud with white caps on their crowns. Electricity wires adorned with fines necklaces and fir trees held a thousand mittens.
On the darkest nights of the year the white fell from her long hair, magnifying the night light of street lamps and sunrise dawned sparkly glistening.
The knots fell and fell until handrails grew impossibly tall and stairways lost their abrupt edges. Busy-ness ground to a halt. Hot chocolate and Christmas cookies perfumed kitchens. Neighbors smiled with the amazement of small children as Christmas glittered in their eyes.
The Gross Domestic Product fell as the knots fell. The Real Economy grew. Neighbors helped neighbors, while the garbage man stayed home with his family. Garbage cans stood waist deep in snow, waiting patiently for pickups. People were forced to rest and read books in the morning. Everyone suffered a grand time.
Old Woman Winter knits leisure blankets.