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During a week of below-zero temperatures
in rural Fjord, Wisconsin, frost formed on
the rafters and roof boards in my father’s
unheated garage and evidently thawed
from time to time, flaked off in sheets in
some places, and fell to the floor, where
it shattered like the stuff in an old-time
refrigerator. On the floor it did not melt.
Some of the frost on the two-by-six brace
closest to the house thawed and dribbled
water down the sloping surface of the
lumber and, presumably at its lowest point,
dripped water onto the lid of Dad’s Amana
freezer, and formed a frozen puddle. A
stalagmite began to ascend. When Dad
attempted to remove it, it broke, but its
base held fast to the freezer top, and the
phallic sculpture persistently swelled and
rose ceilingward again in the night.
Somehow (and I trust you will forgive me)
this circumstance reminded me today of
our current President of the United States,
who, having had his intellectual capacity
called into question, assured the nation
of his “...being, like, really smart....”
My parents had this house and garage
constructed just about a quarter of a
century ago. Dad would not, I realize,
endorse my metaphorical application of
the artwork that Nature has placed in his
garage this week, but he did remark that,
in all these years, he has never seen any-
thing quite like this frost or the icy item
now clinging tight to his freezer lid.
♦
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