Here Comes the Snowstorn

We're ready. After a slippery, long trip home today, we're snug as bugs and ready for the predicted snow. It is supposed to be between 3 and 12 inches--quite a range. We have two inches of new snow already so I'd say we're likely to have about 6 inches anyway judging by the way it's coming down. All week we have been getting an inch here, two inches there, half inch here so there's a good bit on the ground to start with.

We used our checklist and are all set if the electricity goes off or if we can't get out for a few days. I have books from the library and Larry has some movies, and I have tons of projects to work on if I get to be stuck at home. He graded off the driveway so it will be easier to clear this new snowfall, and got about 15 gallons of water ready; with a well no power means no water.

A snowy day is a good time for storytelling, don't you think? Here is one of my favorites from Russia, the story of the Twelve Months. This is from the book Good Stories for Great Holidays, by Frances Olcott Jenkins and is in the public domain. I've posted it before, but good stories always bear repeating, don't they? You can find other snow stories on my blog by clicking here.

THE TWELVE MONTHS: A SLAV LEGEND
BY ALEXANDER CHODZKO (adapted)

THERE was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter.

Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help. Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another.

But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.

"Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and sweet-scented-do you hear?"

"But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan.

"You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die.

Suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she reached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.

There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve Months of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others. His hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned, and drawing near, she said: --

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter cold."

The great January raised his head and answered:

"What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for violets," replied the maiden.

"This is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said January.

"I know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they will kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found."

Here the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the Months, and, placing his wand in his hand, said, "Brother March, do thou take the highest place."

March obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. Immediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and the trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March.

Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.

"Where did you find them?" asked Helen.

"Under the trees on the mountain-side," said Marouckla.

Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries.

"Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must be very sweet and ripe."

"But whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla.

"Hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my strawberries I will kill you," said Helen.

Then the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door. The unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the highest place.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head and asked: "Why comest thou here? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for strawberries," said she.

"We are in the midst of winter," replied January, "strawberries do not grow in the snow."

"I know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them."

The great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and putting the wand in his hand, said: "Brother June, do thou take the highest place."

June obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped toward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and instantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said June.

Joyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily home.

Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance.

"Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly.

"Right up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not bad," answered Marouckla.

Helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she offer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh, red apples.

"Run, Marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh, red apples from the mountain."

"Apples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit!"

"Idle thing, go this minute," said Helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you."

As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head. "Why comest thou here? What does thou seek?" asked he.

"I am come to look for red apples," replied Marouckla.

"But this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great January.

"I know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will kill me."

Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly Months, to whom he handed the wand saying: --

"Brother September, do thou take the highest place."

September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another.

"That is enough," said September; "hurry home."

Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit.

"Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister.

"There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla.

"Then, why did you not bring more?" said Helen angrily. "You must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl."

"No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them," said Marouckla. "I shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home."

"Listen, mother," said Helen. "Give me my cloak. I will fetch some more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken down all the apples."

In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached the mountain-top.

There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word.

"What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?" said the great January severely.

"I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going toward the forest.

The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed limbs.

The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed slowly, but Helen did not return.

"Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries.

Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the mountain.

The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla. In course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful.

Silver Hoof and Other Winter Stories

Storytellers, parents and teachers are always looking for new stories to share with their listeners. Here is one of my favorites from The Malachite Casket: Tales from the Urals by Pavel Bazhov (1879-1950).

Silver Hoof
There was an old man who used to live in our village called Kokovanya. He'd none of his own family left, so he thought he'd take some orphan into his hut to be a child to him.

He asked the neighbors if they know of anyone, and they told him: "Grigory Potapov's children were left orphans on Glinka not long ago. The bailiff sent the older girls to the manor sewing-room, but there's a little girl of six nobody wanted. That would be the child for you."

But Kokovanya said: "I'd be unhandy-like with a lass. A lad would be better. I'd teach him my trade and he'd help me, too, when he got bigger. But what can I do with a lass? What can I teach her?"

But then he thought about it all again. "I knew Grigory and his good wife too," he said. "They were lusty workers and right merry folk. If the lass takes after them, it won't be dull in the hut. I'll have her. But maybe she won't come?"

"Eh, her life's none so sweet," the neighbors told him. "The bailiff gave Grigory's cottage to some poor devil, and told him to look after the orphan till she grows up. But he's got a dozen of his own. They haven't enough for their own mouths. And the wife nags at the orphan child and grudges her every crust. She's little, but she's big enough to understand. She feels it. Wouldn't you say she'd want to get away from it all? And then you'll talk to her a bit, and she'll take to you."

"Aye, that's true," said Kokovanya. "I'll talk to her kindly-like."

When the next holiday came round he went to the place where the orphan lived. He found the hut crowded with folks, young and old. A little girl sat by the stove nursing a brown cat. The child was small and the cat was small too, so thin and bedraggled it was a wonder anyone would let it in. The child was stroking the cat and it purred so you could hear it all over the hut.

Kokovanya looked at the girl and asked: "Is that Grigory's giftie?"

"The same," said the goodwife. "And as if it's not enough feeding her, she's got to drag in that mangy beast too. We can't get rid of it. And it scratches the children. And then on top of it all, I've got to feed it!"

"They must tease it, your children," said Kokovanya gravely. "When she has it, it purrs." Then he turned to the child. "Well, Podaryonka [a little gift], how'd you like to come and live with me?"

The child stared. "How did you know I'm called Daryonka?"

"It just came," he said. "I didn't think, I didn't know, I just happened on it."

"But who are you?" the child asked.

I'm a sort of hunter," said Kokovanya. "Summertime I wash sand and look for gold, and winters I go to the woods and look for the goat, but I never get a sight of it."

"Will you shoot it if you do?"

"Nay," said Kokovanya, "I shoot ordinary goats, but that one I won't. I want to see where he stamps his right forefoot."

"What for?"

"Come and live with me, and I'll tell you all about it," said Kokovanya.

The little girl wanted very much to hear about the goat, and she could see he was a merry, kind old man. So she said: "I'll come. But take my Kitty too. Look how good she is."

"That's as sure as I stand here," said Kokovanya. "Only a fool would leave a cat that sings like that. She'll be as good as a balalaika in the hut."

The goodwife heard their talk, and she was as glad as could be to get the orphan off her hands. She started putting Daryonka's things together all in a hurry. She was afeard Kokovanya might think better of it.

The cat seemed to understand all about it too. She kept rubbing up against their legs and purring: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

So Kokovanya took the orphan home. He was tall and bearded, and she was a bit of a thing with a button nose. Down the street they went with the draggled cat trotting along behind.

That was how they came to live together--Grandad Kokovanya, the orphan Daryonka and Kitty. The days passed, they didn't get rich but they had enough and there was plenty for everyone to do.

In the morning Kokovanya went to work, Daryonka tidied the hut and made soup and porridge, while Kitty hunted mice. In the evening they were all at home, very comfortable and merry.

The old man was a wonderful teller of tales. Daryonka loved to listen, and Kitty would lie purring: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

But after every story Daryonka would remind the old man: "Now, tell me about the goat, Grandad. What is he like?"

At first Kokovanya tried to put her off, but then he told her.

"That's a very special goat. On his right forefoot he's got a silver hoof. And when he stamps with that silver hoof he leaves a gem there. If he stamps once there's one gem, if he stamps twice there are two, and if he begins to paw the ground there'll be a whole pile."

He told her, and then he was sorry, because after that Daryonka could talk of nothing but the goat.

"Grandad, is he a big goat?"

Kokovanya told her he was no taller than the table, with thin legs and a pretty head. But Daryonka kept on: "And has he got horns, Grandad?"

"Aye, that he has, and fine ones too. Ordinary goats have two horns, but this one's got antlers, with five tines."

"And does he eat people, Grandad?"

"No, he doesn't eat people, he eats grass and leaves. Well, and he may nibble a bit of hay from the stacks in winter."

"And what color is he?"

"In summer he's brown like Kitty here, and in winter he's silver-gray."

Autumn came and Kokovanya got ready to go to the woods. He wanted to see where the goats were feeding. But then Daryonka started begging and pleading.

"Take me with you, Grandad! I might get a look at the goat, even if he's a long way off!"

"A long way off you wouldn't know him," said Kokovanya. "All goats have horns in autumn. And you wouldn't see how many tines there are. In the winter, now--that's different. Ordinary goats haven't got horns then, but Silver Hoof has them all the time. So then you can know him even when he's far away."

With that talk he managed to quiet her. Daryonka stopped at home, while Kokovanya went to the woods. On the fifth day he came back.

"A lot of goats are feeding Poldnevsk way this year," he said. "That's where I'll go when winter comes."

"But how'll you sleep in the woods in winter?" asked Daryonka.

"I've got a bit of a hut there, by the glade where we go mowing," he said. "It's a stout one with a window and a stove. I'm all right there."

Then Daryonka started off again: "Will Silver Hoof feed there too?"

"Who knows? He may."

Then the child started off with her begging and pleading: "Take me with you, Grandad! I'll stop in the hut. Maybe Silver Hoof'll come up close and then I'll see him."

At first the old man wouldn't hear of it. "What! Take a little girl into the woods in winter! You'd have to go on skis and you don't know how. You'd sink in the snow. What would I do then? You'd freeze too!"

But Daryonka wouldn't let him alone. She kept begging: "Take me, take me, Grandad! I can ski a little bit!"

Kokovanya talked this way and that, but at last he thought to himself: "What if I do take her after all? If she tries it once she won't ask again."

"All right," he said, "I'll take you. Only see you don't start crying when we get to the woods or asking to go home."

When winter was really come, Kokovanya loaded a hand sled with two sacks of rusks, some hunting supplies and other odd things he'd need of. Daryonka made herself a little bundle too. She took some scraps of cloth to make a frock for her doll, a hank of thread and a needle, and then she put in a rope too.

I may be able to catch Silver Hoof with it, she thought.

She was sorry to leave the cat, but there was naught else to be done with it. She stroked it and talked to it, and explained all about everything.

"Grandad and I are going to the woods, Kitty, and you must stop here and catch all the mice. When we see Silver Hoof we'll come back home again and I'll tell you all about it."

Kitty looked up with cunning eyes and purred: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re
r-r-ight!"

So Kokovanya and Daryonka set off. And all the neighbors stared in amaze. "The old man must be doting! Taking a little girl like that to the woods in winter!"

Just as Kokovanya and Daryonka were leaving the last houses behind, they heard all the dogs making a big fuss and commotion, barking and howling as though some wild beast had got in. They looked round, and there was Kitty running down the middle of the street, spitting and swearing at the dogs. Kitty was a fine big cat now, and able to look after herself. There wasn't a dog anywhere that would try a fight with her.

Daryonka wanted to catch her and take her back home, but just try to catch Kitty! She ran into the woods and up a tree in a flash. Get her out of there if you can! Daryonka called and called, but Kitty wasn't to be lured down. So what could they do? They had to go on. And when they looked around, there was Kitty running along near them, off to one side. That was how they came at last to the hut.

So all three of them lived there. And Daryonka liked it. "It's nice here," she said. Kokovanya agreed, "Aye, it's more cheerful-like." And Kitty curled up in a ball by the stove and purred loudly: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

There were a lot of goats that winter. Ordinary goats. Kokovanya brought one or two home every day. The hides piled up and the meat was salted--far too much to be taken back on the hand sled. Kokovanya saw he would have to go home for a horse, but how could he leave Daryonka alone in the woods with only the cat? But Daryonka had got used to the woods and she spoke of it herself.

"Grandad, why don't you go to the village for a horse? We ought to take the salt meat home."

Kokovanya was astonished.

"What a wise head on little shoulders! As sensible as a woman grown. Thought of it all by yourself. But won't you be frightened, all alone?"

"Why'd I be frightened?" she answered. "You say yourself the hut's a good strong one, the wolves can't get in, and besides they don't come here. And I've got Kitty with me. I won't be frightened. But come back quickly all the same!"

Kokovanya left. And Daryonka stopped behind alone with Kitty. She was quite used to being along in the daytime when Kokovanya was tracking goats. But when it began to get dark she felt a bit queer-like. So she looked at Kitty and saw she was lying comfortable and contented. That made Daryonka feel better. She sat down by the window and looked out towards the glade and--there!--something like a little ball bounced out of the woods. It came closer and she saw it was a goat. He had thin legs and a slender head, and five tines on his horns. Daryonka ran out at once, but she found nothing there. She waited and waited, and at last went back to the hut. "I
must have dreamed it," she said, "it was just my fancy."

Kitty purred: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

Daryonka went to bed taking the cat with her, and slept soundly till morning. Another day passed. No Kokovanya. Daryonka felt dull and
lonely but she did not cry. Instead she pet the cat.

"Don't fret, Kitty," she said. "Grandad'll come tomorrow, you'll see."

Kitty only sang her usual song: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

Again Daryonka sat by the window looking at the stars. She was thinking of going to bed when she suddenly heard a pitter-pitter-pat behind the wall of the hut. She jumped up, frightened, and then heard the pitter-pitter-pat by the other wall, then back by the first one again, then by the door, and at last up on the roof. It was not loud, it sounded like very quick, light footsteps.

Suddenly Daryonka thought to herself: What if that's the goat that came yesterday? She wanted so badly to see it that even fright couldn't hold her back. She opened the door and peeped out, and there was the goat, quite close, standing as quiet as could be. It raised its front foot to stamp and a silver hoof gleamed on it, and the horns had five tines. Daryonka did not know what to do, so she called it as she would an ordinary nannie or billie.

How that goat laughed! Then he turned and ran across the glade. Daryonka went back into the hut and told Kitty all about it.

"I've seen Silver Hoof. I saw his horns and I saw his hoof. Only I didn't see him stamp and leave precious stones. He'll show me that next time."

Kitty sang her usual song: "R-r-right! You'r-r-re r-r-ight!"

The third day passed and still no Kokovanya. Daryonka's face was quite clouded. She even cried a bit. She wanted to talk to Kitty, but Kitty was gone. Then Daryonka got really frightened and ran out to look for the cat.

It was a light night with a full moon. Daryonka looked round and there was the cat, quite close, sitting in the glade with the goat in front of her. Kitty was nodding her head and so was the goat, as if they were having a talk. Then they began running about on the snow.

The goat ran here and ran there, then he stopped and stamped.

They ran about the glade for a long time, and disappeared in the distance. Then they came right up to the hut again. The goat jumped up on the roof and began stamping with his silver hoof. And precious stones flashed out like sparks--red, green, light blue, dark blue--every kind and color.

It was then that Kokovanya returned. But he did not know his hut. It
was covered with precious stones, sparkling and winking in all colors. And there stood the goat on top, stamping and stamping with his silver hoof, and the stones kept rolling and rolling down.

Suddenly Kitty jumped up there too and stood beside the goat purring loudly--and then there was nothing, no Kitty and no Silver Hoof.

Kokovanya scooped up half a hatful of stones, but Daryonka begged him: "Don't touch them, Grandad! I want to look at it just as it is in
the morning."

Kokovanya did as she asked. But before morning heavy snow fell and
covered everything up.

They cleared the snow away afterwards, but they couldn't find anything. Well, they didn't do so badly after all, with what Kokovanya had collected in his hat.

So it all ended well, though it was a shame about Kitty. She was never seen again, and Silver Hood didn't come back either. He'd come once, that was enough.

But after that people often found stones in the glade where the goat had run about. Most of them were green ones, chrysolites, folks call them. Have you ever seen them?



There is something magical about the story of Silver Hoof. I think if I told it I would leave out the cat's lines, and probably some other things would change in the telling, but the bones of the story are lovely--an old man who befriends an orphan and a mysterious creature with mystic abilities. What's not to love?

Here are some links to other winter tales for telling that I posted on my blog last winter:

Grandfather Frost

The Twelve Months

The Snow Man by Hans Christian Andersen



Winter Wiggle Breaks for preschool fun activities

Links to stories about Grandmother Winter, the Snow Woman and more

Enjoy!

The Snow Man: A Hans Christian Andersen Tale, adapted for telling

This is an interesting old story from a master storyteller, Hans Christian Andersen. It is in the public domain so is available online as e-text. Being in the public domain means it is also available for storytellers to tell without copyright restrictions. I have adapted the tale slightly to include more modern language and usage, without, I hope, losing the flavor of Mr. Andersen's story.

"It is so cold," said the Snow Man, "that it makes my whole body crackle. How wonderful it is to be cold!But how that great red thing up in the sky is staring at me!"

He meant the sun. It was just setting.

The sun went down,and the full moon rose, shining in the deep blue night.

"There it comes again, from the other side," said the Snow Man, who thought the moon was the sun, showing himself once more. "If I only knew how to move away from this place. I would like to move. I would slide along on the ice as I have seen the boys do; but I don't know how; I don't even know how to run."

"Away, away," barked the old yard-dog. He was quite hoarse, and could not bark properly. He had once been an indoor dog, and lay by the fire, and he had been hoarse ever since. "The sun will make you run some day. I saw him, last winter, make the last snow man run, and the one before him. Away, away, they all have to go."

"I don't understand you," said the Snow Man. "Is that thing up yonder to teach me to run? I saw it running itself a little while ago, and now it has come creeping up from the other side."

"You know nothing at all," replied the yard-dog; "but then, you've only lately been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and the one before it was the sun. It will come again to-morrow, for I think the weather is going to change. I can feel such pricks and stabs in my left leg; I am sure there is going to be a change."

"I don't understand him," said the Snow Man to himself, "but I have a feeling that he is talking of something very disagreeable. The one who stared so just now, and whom he calls the sun, is not my friend; I can feel that too."

"Away, away," barked the yard-dog, and then he turned round three times, and crept into his kennel to sleep.

There was really a change in the weather. Towards morning, a thick fog covered the whole country round, and a keen wind arose, so that the cold seemed to freeze one's bones; but when the sun rose, the sight was splendid. Trees and bushes were covered with hoar frost, and looked like a forest of white coral; while on every twig glittered frozen dew-drops. Every twig glistened. The birch, waving in the wind, looked full of life, like trees in summer; and its appearance was beautiful. Where the sun shone, everything glittered and sparkled, as if diamond dust had been scattered; while the snowy carpet on the earth seemed to be covered with diamonds.

"This is really beautiful," said a young girl, who had come into the garden with a young man; and they both stood still near the Snow Man, and contemplated the glittering scene.

"Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight," she exclaimed, while her eyes sparkled.

"And we can't have such a fellow as this in the summertime," replied the young man, pointing to the Snow Man; "he is wonderful."

The girl laughed, and nodded at the Snow Man, and then ran away over the snow with her friend. The snow creaked and crackled beneath her feet.

"Who are these two?" the Snow Man asked the yard-dog."You have been here longer than I have; do you know them?"

"Of course I know them," she has stroked my back many times, and he has given me a bone of meat. I never bite those two."

"But what are they?"

"They are engaged to each other. They will go and live in the same kennel by-and-by, and gnaw at the same bone. Away, away!"

"Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?" asked the Snow Man.

"Well, they belong to the same master. My, people who were only born yesterday know very little. I can see that in you. I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away, away!"

"The cold is delightful. But tell me--why are you out here on a chain?"

"I'll tell you. They said I was a pretty little fellow once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, and sit in the mistress's lap. They used to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called 'Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.' But after a while I grew too big for them, and they sent me away to the housekeeper's room; so I came to live on the lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see where I was master once. It was certainly a smaller room than those up stairs; but I was more comfortable; for I was not being continually taken hold of and pulled about by children. I ate food as good, or even better. I had my own cushion, and I used to go under the stove, and lie down beneath it. Ah, I still dream of that stove. Away, away!"

"Does a stove look beautiful?" asked the Snow Man. "Is it at all like me?"

"It is just the reverse of you. It's as black as a crow, and has a long neck and a brass knob; it eats firewood, so that fire spurts out of its mouth. We must keep on one side, or under it, to be comfortable. You can see it through the window from where you stand."

The Snow Man looked, and saw a bright polished thing with a fire gleaming from the lower part of it.

"Why did you leave her?" asked the Snow Man. "How could you give up such a comfortable place?"

"I had to. I bit the youngest of my master's sons in the leg because he kicked away the bone I was chewing. 'Bone for bone,' I thought; but they were so angry, and from that time I have been chained up, and I lost my bone. I can't bark any more like other dogs, I am so hoarse."

But the Snow Man was no longer listening. He was looking into the housekeeper's room, where the stove stood on its four iron legs, looking about the same size as the Snow Man himself.

"What a strange crackling I feel within me," he said. "How can I get in there? I want to go in there and lean against her, even if I have to break the window."

"You must never go in there," said the yard-dog, "for if you do, you'll melt away, away."

"I might as well go," said the Snow Man, "for I think I am breaking up as it is."

That whole day the Snow Man stood looking in the window. In the evening the room was even more inviting, for from the stove came a gentle glow, not like the sun or the moon; it was the bright light that gleams from a stove when it has been well fed. When the door of the stove was opened, the flames darted out of its mouth. The light of the flames fell directly on the face and breast of the Snow Man outside.

The night was long, but the Snow Man stood there watching the stove and crackling with the cold. In the morning, the window-panes of the housekeeper's room were covered with ice. They were the most beautiful ice-flowers any Snow Man could desire, but he could not see the stove because of them. The snow crackled and the wind whistled around him; it was just the kind of weather a Snow Man should enjoy. But he did not enjoy it; all he could think about was the stove.

"That is a terrible thing for a Snow Man to think about," said the yard-dog; "I suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away, away," he barked and then he added, "the weather is going to change."

And the weather did change; it began to thaw. As the warmth increased, the Snow Man decreased. He said nothing and did not complain. One morning he broke, and sank down altogether; and, there where he had stood, something like a broomstick was sticking up in the ground. It was the pole around which the boys had built him up.

"Why, that's the stove shovel they used to build him! No wonder he felt so strongly about the stove. Away, away," barked the hoarseyard-dog.

But the girls in the house sang,

"Come from your fragrant home, green thyme;

Stretch your soft branches, willow-tree;

The months are bringing the sweet spring-time,

When the lark in the sky sings joyfully.

Come gentle sun, while the cuckoo sings,

And I'll mock his note in my wanderings."

And nobody thought any more of the Snow Man.

THE END

Winter Wiggle Breaks

Got a storytime to do for preschoolers or kids who have been trapped indoors too long?

Storyteller Karen Chace asked for ideas for an upcoming winter program. I brainstormed a little and came up with these. Remembering the snowy days with my grandchildren in December prompted some ideas.

Snowball Patch

Have the children pick up imaginary snow, make snowballs, and then build snow forts. Have children form a circle. Put "Susie" in the center and circle around as you sing this song, modified from Paw Paw Patch :

Where oh where is dear little Susie

Where oh where is dear little Susie

Where oh where is dear little Susie
Way down yonder in the snowball patch

Stop the circle, and start making imaginary snowballs

Picking up snow and making snowballs

Picking up snow and making snowballs

Picking up snow and making snowballs
Way down yonder in the snowball patch

Start stacking snowballs to make pretend snow forts.

Stacking up snow balls, gonna make a snow fort

Stacking up snow balls, gonna make a snow fort

Stacking up snow balls, gonna make a snow fort
Way down yonder in the snowball patch

Get back in the circle and go around again, putting another child in the center.

Come on boys, let's play with her

Come on boys, let's play with her

Come on boys, let's play with her

Way down yonder in the snowball patch

Continue for as long as you can stand it!

Another activity is to have children stand up, then pretend to "slide" on ice

Sliding

You're going to fall!

(have them sway back and forth, waving their arms like they are trying to regain balance).

Slide on one foot!

Slide on two feet!

Slide backwards!

Slide bent over!

Slide with a partner!

Slide in a circle!

(join hands and "slide" around in a circle)
Sit back down!

Build a Snowman

This game relies on imagination. Have children pretend to:

Roll the snow to make the BIG bottom ball of the snowman.

Roll the snow to make the second ball of the snowman.

Roll the snow to make the snowman's head.

Now:

Stack the snow

Smooth the snowman

Stick in eyes, mouth, and carrot nose,

stretch tall to put on his hat.

Do the activities slow first, then fast, then faster.

(That is a big snowflake on my camera lens, not a hole in the picture. Our snowman looked mildly manic by the time we were through with him--then the next day we found that their dog had practiced his aim on our creation, leaving yellow snow!)

You could add a song to this activity, based on the melody of Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush

This is the way we roll the snow, roll the snow, roll the snow

This is the way we roll the snow, we're making a snowman!

This is the way we make his body, make his body, make his body
This is the way we make his body, we're building a snowman!

This is the way we make his head, make his head, make his head,

This is the way we make his head, we're building a snowman!

This is the way we stack him up, stack him up, stack him up

This is the way we stack him up, we're building a snowman!

This is the way we make his face, make his face, make his face

This is the way we make his face, we're building a snowman!

This is the way we put on his hat, put on his hat, put on his hat,

This is the way we put on his hat, we're building a snowman!

Websites:
Author Jan Brett offers stories, games and activities about snow on her fantastic website for children.

Links to all sorts of snow information and activities at Kennesaw State University's snow page.

Books about snow activities:

Winter Day Play! Activities, Crafts, and Games for Indoors and Out by Nancy F. Castaldo offers all sorts of fun for snowy days.

ISBN-13: 978-1556523816

The Kids Winter Handbook by Jane Drake, Ann Love , and Heather Collins (Illustrator) has more things to do and see in winter.

ISBN-13: 978-1550749694

Discover Nature in Winter: Things to Know and Things to Do by Elizabeth P. Lawlor and Pat Archer (Illustrator) introduces children to the wilder side of winter--stargazing, winter shrubs and trees, animal behavior and more.

ISBN-13: 978-0811727198

Snow Way!

I've been running across bits of interesting stuff about snow lately. For centuries people have sought explanations for cold weather. Today we worry about global warming, but past cultures worried about unusual weather too, and developed stories and myths to explain what they saw. The internet is full of references to these old stories.

For example, in Germany it was was once thought that "Old Mother Frost" made it snow by shaking the feathers out of her featherbed. When the feathers fell to earth, they were snow. The Grimm Brothers collected a story about her, called, surprisingly, Old Mother Frost.


In Europe, a badger's shadow used to tell people whether or not spring was coming. If the badger saw his shadow, then there would be more winter. If the badger didn't see his shadow, then spring was on the way. Sound familiar? We call it Groundhog's Day now in the US, and celebrate it in February by bothering a poor old groundhog in Pennsylvania.




The Japanese had a legend about a spirit called Snow Woman who induced sleep in travelers, which led to their death (hypothermia?). Snow Woman's name is Yuki-onna.

An Australian aboriginal myth told that frost comes from the seven stars of the constellation called the Seven Sisters, or the Pleiades. The sisters, who lived on earth in those times, were so cold they sparkled with icicles. They would fly up into the sky and every year they would pull off their icicles and throw them down to Earth, causing winter.

The February Moon was called the Moon of Ice by ancient Celts.

A Bulgarian story tells of three saints who went to the sun to beg for winter. When each one returned he would shake his beard and snow would fall. This next story is from the website We Love Bulgaria:

"A very cold, snowy and long winter became the reason for the birth of the Milky Way, a Bulgarian folk story tells. A poor peasant ran out of straw for his kettle, and the spring with its fresh grass was still too far ahead. So one night, the poor man decided to sneak into his best man’s house and steal some of his straw. In the morning the best man noticed that someone had been into his home and following the straw covered traces came to the poor man’s house. He felt very offended that it was namely the man who should respect him the most, that had done him such an evil and said to him: “Why didn’t you ask me for some straw? I was going to give it to you readily!” Ashamed, the poor man denied to have stolen the straw from him. Then the best man said: “Let the stolen straw come afire and burn forever, so that it can be known and remembered when a groom stole from his best man.” And so, this is what happened. The burning trace rose to the sky and has been shining there ever since. That’s why peasants call this starry path “best man’s straw” and we know it as the Milky Way."

Winter Story: The Twelve Months

Unfortunately a spammer's comments caused me to take this story down from my blog. I'm reposting in the hope that the spammer will not return.

This is a good story for the winter months. This is an adaptation by France Jenkins Olcott in her book Good Stories for Great Holidays. It's in the public domain now and available as an e-text from the Electronic Text Center at the University of Virginia Library. At the end of the story, I'll include links to other online information.

The Twelve Months

There was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter.

Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help.
Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another.

But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.

"Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and sweet-scented-do you hear?"

"But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan.

"You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die.

Suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she reached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.

There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve Months of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others. His hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned, and drawing near, she said:

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter cold."

The great January raised his head and answered:
"What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for violets," replied the maiden.

"This is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said January.

"I know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they will kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found."
Here the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the Months, and, placing his wand in his hand, said:

"Brother March, do thou take the highest place."

March obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire.

Immediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and the trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March.

Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.

"Where did you find them?" asked Helen.

"Under the trees on the mountain-side," said Marouckla. Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries.

"Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must be very sweet and ripe."

"But whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla.

"Hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my strawberries I will kill you," said Helen.

Then the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door. The unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the highest place.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. The great January raised his head and asked: "Why comest thou here? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for strawberries," said she.

"We are in the midst of winter," replied January, "strawberries do not grow in the snow."

"I know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them."

The great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and putting the wand in his hand, said: "Brother June, do thou take the highest place."

June obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped toward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and instantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said June.

Joyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance.

"Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly.

"Right up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not bad," answered Marouckla.

Helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she offer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh, red apples.

"Run, Marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh, red apples from the mountain." "Apples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit!"

"Idle thing, go this minute," said Helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you."

As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head. "Why comest thou here? What does thou seek?" asked he.

"I am come to look for red apples," replied Marouckla.

"But this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great January.

"I know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will kill me."
Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly Months, to whom he handed the wand saying:

"Brother September, do thou take the highest place." September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another.

"That is enough," said September, "hurry home."

Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit.

"Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister.

"There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla.

"Then, why did you not bring more?" said Helen angrily. "You must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl."

"No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them," said Marouckla. "I shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home."

"Listen, mother," said Helen. "Give me my cloak. I will fetch some more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken down all the apples."

In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached the mountain-top.
There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word.

"What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?" said the great January severely.

"I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going toward the forest.

The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed limbs. The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed slowly, but Helen did not return.

"Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries.

Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the mountain.

The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla. In course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful.

What a great tale! And on the Children's Literature Web Guide, the Cinderella page lists many ideas for classroom use and actiivities to do with this story. Another, slightly different version of the story is on the Sacred Texts website, and on this one. And there is an article in Wikipedia about a Soviet film version of the story, made in 1956.

A Greek version of the story, told by my friend and storyteller Cathy Mosley, is available on H-Net. And then there is this Czech version, which is more like the Olcott story above.

The Baldwin Project offers many classic children's stories, and there is a version of the Twelve Months from the book Fairy Stories Every Child Should Know by Kate Douglas Wiggin & Nora Archibald Smith .

For more information than you'll ever need about calendars, Bill Hollon's site is the place to go with a good bibliography, a FAQ and well-organized information.