Shouldn't…but Do

It started early last week. Halfway up the street before I noticed him. Leaning against a garage, well dressed, hat askew, amiable expression – who knows what lay below that cool exterior?

Yes, it was a snowman. Plastic. From the black pipe molded to his face I assumed he was sadly out of touch with the dangers of smoking. Black hat, coordinating scarf in Black Watch plaid. Half-buried in a drift. An expression bordering on…I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

From behind me, a “clink, clink” wafted by on the breeze. Turning, the man himself, Santa Claus. No body mass index issue here, Santa swung, bleached and flat, a slack pole-dancer atop a front-yard flagpole.

From out of the landscape emerged the things, the Christmas things, out of time, out of season. Dried wreaths, battered bows, the occasional candy cane yard ornament. Christmas lights. Bound by hoar frost and forgotten owners.

Or were they? For a fleeting moment it crossed my mind that they were simply an alternative landscape, self aware in randomness. Obscurely collected and waiting. Waiting for what?

With a shiver and a smile, I moved on, just forgotten stuff.

Time brushed on, more snow fell, some melted. Just a few days ago, I settled myself into a pleasant collegiate atrium. As I reached for my backpack, I caught a flash of peripheral red. And there they were – verdant, lush, full greenhouse bloom, pot after pot of – poinsettia’s.