Finally. Do you know how long this image has been trapped inside of my bean? A. Long. Time. (A very special thanks to Suchan Vodoor who took the photos during the heat wave.)
And it comes with a story. (Aren't you lucky?)
Think of one of those epic snowstorms from your childhood. The one when all the kitchen windows steamed up and you drew snowflakes in the fog on the glass. Your mom and dad are also snowbound - a rarity in those days as they spent most of their time at work in the city. The day feels special. The snow outside is so deep it's over your head. You are REALLY excited to go outside. REALLY. Ever since you spied that first fat snowflake reflected by the streetlights’ incandescence last night, you've been thinking about playing in the snow. There are some very important angels that need to be crowned. Not to mention all that beautiful virgin snow winding it's way down the driveway that is begging for toboganning.
After breakfast, your dad goes outside to start shoveling the long sidewalk up to your house. You'd be happy to run outside in your PJs but (of course) your mom shoos you off to your bedroom to suit up. Now, the key to a perfect snow outfit is layering. This includes multiple pairs of underwear, pants, and socks. You believe the more clothes you layer the longer you can stay outside in the snow. So, you put on a third of your wardrobe. You find your joints are hard to bend and you walk around your room like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. One last thing. The boots. You have a pair of glorious white boots with fur trim that match the snow outside. You labor to get down on your hands and knees and crawl into the back of your closet, wading through shoes. It's been a year or so since you've needed your snow boots. They lay discarded in the back of closet, one boot casually lying on its side.
Almost snow time.
You inch your way out of the closet backwards and emerge victorious. You wipe sweaty strands of hair out of your eyes as your 5 pairs of underwear and 6 pairs of socks are causing you to overheat. You can hear your dad outside, rhythmically shoveling the snow away from the sidewalk.
You waddle downstairs as fast as your 5 pairs of underwear will allow. You get to the front door and fling yourself to the ground. You put on your boots.
And there's a problem. You can't get the boots on. Must be too many socks. You peel off the first pair of socks. You try to shove your feet in again. No luck. You are sweaty, frustrated and near tears. You lean your head up against the front door dejected, listening to your dad's rhythmic shovel sounds. You can feel cold air sneaking its way through the front door and insulation.
Your mom comes over to help and realizes that your boots no longer fit. In fact, this was an early and unexpected snow so you have no new snow boots. You fear you will never get to play in the snow as you have don't have the appropriate footwear. Oh woe is you. Woe, woe, indeed.
Your mom takes your hand and drags you upstairs to her huge walk-in closet. She turns on the light. You see all her shoes lined up along the wall like attentive soldiers each asking to be chosen for the occasion. She pulls out a pair of well-worn, cranberry-red, high-heeled, knee-high Aigner boots. She puts them on you and zips them up. You are out of the house like a bullet. The door bangs closed behind you. SLAM! Your dad has managed to shovel half the sidewalk. You strut through the tall hallways of snow in your high-heel boots and then zip off into the deep white drifts to find angels in the snow.