Further Up & Further In

Always Winter

Winters in Narnia always thrilled Lucy. While England faded from her mind, and with it, the wardrobe, her body never forgot the first time she saw that wonderland blanketed in snow. Lucy always felt more sure of magic when she was watching the first snowfall out her window at Cair Paravel, and she would shiver, not for the chill in the air, but for the sparkling, promising feeling that enveloped her because of it. Images played at the frayed edges of her memory: a light that wasn't sunlight, running with Mr. Tumnus, and Father Christmas himself offering her a gift. With those memories came colder ones: the White Witch, her wolves, and Narnians turned to stone. Those were awful memories, but the good always overpowered the bad. Each time it snowed, Lucy found Narnia anew. And each time she found Narnia, she found the queen within herself.

Winters chilled Edmund for quite a different reason. Though the beastly boy in England was as forgotten as the rest of it, he remembered quite clearly his traitorous beginnings in Narnia. He was haunted by the cold; the memories of the Witch; tall, and beautiful, and proud, sitting next to him. Sugary sweets and hot drinks he couldn't erase the taste of. The feeling of frozen stone beneath his fingers. Edmund could never quite understand Lucy's excitement, though he kindly joined her in her celebrations and explorations. In winter he saw death. He saw evil back in throne, and he saw himself as a cowardly, disloyal child. He didn't mind when the snow first began falling, and he didn't mind his view from Cair Paravel, but Edmund did his best never to enter the snowy woods on his own, lest he see himself falling at the Witch's feet the way he once did.

Peter could never make up his mind one way or another if winter was his friend or his foe. He had been to the cold north to deal with the giants, and he had lost his brother in a snowstorm many years before. He had trekked across the country, terrified, in his desperate attempt to save him, and sometimes the cold, grey sky dumped these memories along with the snow. Yet other times the snow sparked different kinds of memories: Lucy's confident smile, and a cozy meal at the Beavers', and drawing his sword from Father Christmas. So Peter decided to enjoy the winter when he could. He'd celebrate with feasts and dances, or join Lucy in a snowball fight, (even once Susan began telling him he was too old for such games.) Then when the cold made Peter feel frozen with fear and regret, he'd spend his time at home next to a roaring fire, which promised him that they would have spring again. After all, Peter always felt more like a king during the spring.

As for Susan, she enjoyed the winter landscape as long as she was indoors. Narnia was breathtakingly beautiful this time of year, and she'd always had an eye for beauty; that much was true. But she did not like trudging through the snow in her long gowns, and she did not like when her younger siblings came traipsing through the door soaking wet from adventures on ice that wasn't yet fully frozen. She did not like the way the cold stiffened her fingers and made it hard to shoot her bow, and she didn't like the lack of guests during the winter months. Yet Susan didn't hate winter. She liked it quite a bit when they had meals with the Beavers and talked about their first adventure in Narnia. She liked when Peter decided to throw feasts and balls with their closest friends, even if foreign guests rarely wanted to travel to Narnia in the winter. And most of all Susan loved days when the world stopped and her siblings stayed home, and they wrapped themselves in warm blankets, and laid beside the fire, and chatted until they fell asleep on the floor. In the end, winter made Susan feel more like a child. More like anything was possible. More like magic. More like she was home.