When the blizzard Evelyn came roaring into our neighborhood Friday night, plopped herself down and refused to leave we thought, “That’s not the Evelyn we know.”
When she whipped herself into a frenzy, tossed tree branches into our yards and left waist-high snow drifts and ice in her wake, we said, “That’s not our Evelyn.”
When the blizzard Evelyn made history, closed highways, schools, churches and courthouses and made a weather map of Wisconsin look like a crazy mess, we said, “We don’t recognize that Evelyn.”
The Evelyn we know prances through life with a contagious smile, sings Skinnamarink dinky dink, skinnamarinky doo, I love you, loves her little brother and would never, ever throw a tantrum so big she shut down an entire city.
The blizzard Evelyn overstayed a welcome she presumed in the first place. She collapsed roofs, sent well-intentioned drivers skidding into ditches, clogged snow blowers and wore out shovelers. In Appleton alone she left more than 21.2 inches of snow, the most we’ve ever had.
The Evelyn we know lives right down the street with her parents, her little brother August and their big dog Hugo. She wears purple boots and pink tennis shoes and she loves to play in the snow.
We’re very happy to see the blizzard Evelyn head out. The Evelyn we know is welcome to stop by our house anytime.
This is great – I had an Aunt Evelyn, I sent this to her daughter in Arizona – (in the 90 there –