Wisconsin is currently in its first false spring, also known as the time of year where we all wake up and think “Huh, maybe I can get away with a light jacket today” only to return home at the end of the day with frostbite and a foot of snow to shovel.
Given that the Madison area has not experienced a significant snowfall in multiple weeks, the public is in the “blissful ignorance” stage.
However, it’s not all peaceful. Winter warm streaks provide a reminder that like snow melting in the sun, time can’t be stopped — no matter how desperately one may plead. Where there once was a crisp, white snowman lovingly draped with the scarf of the innocent child who made it is now a deformed, mud-crusted snow figure that’s missing an arm.
The public doesn’t like to admit the feelings of longing and fear that the sight of a decrepit snowman evokes. Like the death of a beloved family member, talking about it is much too vulnerable.
Similar to visiting a cemetery, the very first thought a person has when they see such a snow being is “How long do I really have left? Am I closer to being six feet underground than I am to being the age where I woke up on a snow day and played outside before cozying up in a warm blanket and drinking hot chocolate?”
Still, eventually, the snowmen will melt completely to provide nourishment for what will soon grow beneath the surface. Then, with some luck, a landscaper will come to spray chemicals all over to ensure that no bright yellow dandelions will be allowed to flourish. Without dandelions, access to making a wish is severely limited. This is good, as people are forced to face the fact that there’s no hope of going back and that they have no choice but to live the life they find themselves stuck in — day after day, year after year and — if they manage to not pass away by then — decade after decade.
Despite the odds, there is one thing that will prevent someone from spiraling after seeing a dying snowman. With a little help from fate, some individuals notice a snowman at the same time that a dog is peeing on it. The dogs and their seeming lack of knowledge or empathy for the fact that they’re urinating on a child’s art project becomes the focus, blocking the brain’s capability to feel depressed and stimulating its dopamine receptors.
Mackenzie is the first ever editor of The Beet and actually made of over 62% beet.
