Friday, January 8, 2021 Old Man Hoarfrost

They say he lived in an abandoned old shack hidden in the woods, and he was content to let them believe it. But what need had he of walls and a ceiling? In one sense he had no corner to call his own; in another sense, everywhere was his dwelling place. Any sort of nook or cranny would serve just as well to give room for him to sit and think, to design and make his intricate plans. And to wait. And wait. One could say he was the most patient of God’s artisans, for the conditions had to be perfect for him to work his craft.

Many have lauded his work over the ages. Some insisted he should have a grand title, like “The Honorable Hoarfrost,” or “The Master of Rime,” but he eschewed all of this silliness (even though it did make him smile). His favorite moniker was the rough-hewn “Old Man Hoarfrost.”

He was endowed by his Creator do do one beautiful, glorious thing. He had only one job, one purpose, one “raison d’etre:” to reveal the glory of the Maker on the glittering cold days of winter. His cousin, Dew, could only ply his craft in the summer, so they never worked in the same hemisphere at the same time. They passed each other with a high-five and a “hey, nonny nonny,” as they roamed the earth in search of the tools of their trade: moisture and cooling temperatures.

You’d think winter was Hoarfrost’s favorite season, and it certainly was the culmination of all his imaginings, the time to display his masterpieces. But Autumn was his happy place. Each dried up plant with its sharp and brittle points and its spare and stripped-down lines – these were his canvases! Each time he saw them, he’d rub his hands together with the glee of anticipation. Oh, what a wonderful world he’d been given in which to do his work. Let it begin.

Welcome to Fiction Friday! It might be more accurate to call this piece “Fanciful Fiction,” and I don’t expect every Friday to be like this. But I took a walk this morning and the story began to tell itself – I couldn’t hold it back.

In the future, I will sometimes return to the adventures of Fig Newton and his friends – I was quite taken with him. Also, I had a fun idea about using the descriptions on wine labels as a launching off point for stories.

Thanks for joining me, friends! May these stories lighten your days and brighten your minds when the times are heavy and burdensome. Sometimes it’s good to set down something heavy you’ve been carrying so that you can pick up a light-hearted piece of whimsy.

To God be the glory.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning while searching for Old Man Hoarfrost – I really think I saw him lurking in that shack.