Narnia Retold
“It appears we now live in Narnia,” I recently told a friend on the Marco Polo.
I was standing at the back window on the first day of spring, watching a storm pile on snow, softly blanketing smothering the wistful tulips, as if to scorn, “Not so fast, pals.”
I went on, “We have entered an eternal winter, and I fully expect Mr. Tumnus to bound into view, jittery and dropping packages, hoping to go unnoticed before he anxiously scurries on his way.”
I tried to continue on about the White Witch moving in and hoping Aslan would return but I couldn’t really because I won’t actually be going out to meet that Mr. Tumnus, who always freaked me out with his deer legs in this animated feature from 1979, to then fight the battle the White Witch rages, consequently saving the world from this eternal winter. Because I’m sick of going into my wardrobe and frankly, I just don’t have the energy. So that is where that story ends, it would seem. Standing at windows, pitying the would-be flowers, and watching the deer folk gather in the backyard like a meeting place.
Spring tries so hard to come, but it’s no match for March in these parts. So the other day, during what was officially labeled a “snow squall,” in perhaps a more Edmund-esque style, I took an “if you can’t beat them, join them” approach, donned my winter suit, and went for a walk with the White Witch herself. I thought it would be fine, and I perhaps hubrisly thought it might be my last chance for a winter walk. Time (specifically looking at you, April) will tell.
But— it was pretty wicked out there, as witches and squalls generally go, and felt myself in a war anyway. Snow pelted my face and I got lost in unfamiliar neighborhoods a couple of times, one of which being when I had to keep my head down and just follow the sidewalk. After a while I looked up and saw I was finishing rounding out a cul-de-sac, so that was fun and felt productive.
But I took some squall pics and listened to a podcast of an interview with a war photographer who described herself as a tortured soul which kept her from feeling pride in her work, so all was not lost.
I felt connected to all the characters at play here:
Yes! The walk that turned Narnia. So so good!