Here in Mellowdene, we hold a celebration of the season with an occasion known as The Melting.
Shortly before this year's Melting, Cecile and I were discussing the events that would be taking place - I was involved in a small way - when she wrinkled her nose in that cute way she has, signifying she'd remembered a question.
"What is it, Cessie?"
She smiled. "I was wondering the other day - most everyone knows the traditions, the link with the Snow Queen and so on, but why is it really called The Melting?"
I pondered for a moment. "I'm not 100% certain, but I think it relates to an isolated spot in Sylvania called Winter Valley. This is high in the mountains and is ice-bound for months on end. However, there is a part of the year when the sun is able to shine into the valley, and the ice melts - providing water to replenish the underground rivers that irrigate the land far below, allowing new season's growth for the plant life. In this way 'the melting' signifies the beginning of spring."
"Whew!" she laughed. "And that's you not being 100% certain?"
"Alright, sweet wrinkle," I grinned, tapping her knee. "I mean it's not from a textbook or any official source. I overheard Horatio Seadog explaining all this to Twitch Hazelwood and Murky Waters a couple of years ago."
Cecile nodded. "Right. Well, I prefer the Snow Queen story."
"I'm sure the same goes for the children, and probably most of Mellowdene."
The thing is, most of the village were brought up with the legend of the Snow Queen. It was a sort of creation myth that explained how Sylvania came to be. A sort of rabbit deity - although other species have adapted this - who saw that creatures needed protection from the world. A gentle home where they could flourish. The Snow Queen created Sylvania by sacrificing herself, melting away to endow a hidden but blighted land with her magical essence. For the first time plants would spring forth, clear water would flow and life would pulse from the land. Giving us a home.
We even have a statue of her on the village green. When celebrating The Melting, most Mellowdene inhabitants make a point of visiting the statue at some time within the day.
The legend of the Snow Queen is a tale that rabbits have told their children for years. I remember my father telling the story to me and to my brothers, and in turn I entertained Brendan and Beverley with the tale. When Russell is older, I will undoubtedly tell him.
The competition would only be one of a series of other events.
I'd been asked to play the accordion so that there would be music for Poppy Dappledawn and Abbie Keats to dance their intricate steps around the maypole. I know it's not yet May, but that doesn't matter. The girls are very skilled in their footwork and timing and it's always a treat to see good dancing.
After finding out about Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys recently, Chris Snow-Warren was able to convince his father Bernard to sing for everybody at The Melting. We had a handful of rehearsals to brush up on some songs that were suitable for his vocal range, and I was most impressed. Again I played the accordion to accompany him. On the day, his voice rang out across the green and with each song the crowd grew.
On the night before the event, Frasier, Niles, Daphne and Cadbury Chocolate had been joined with Eve Wildwood, and they went around the village green hiding chocolate bunnies. These treats were in a variety of sizes, and all wrapped in foil for protection. By convention, all younger critters in the village were kept indoors so they wouldn't know where the goodies were hidden. They were similarly discouraged from visiting the green the following morning prior to the official start.
Eve Wildwood - familiar to all the children as one of their teachers - announced the rules of the foil bunny game so that the kiddies knew what they would have to do.
"You should search all around the village green for the chocolate bunnies," she said, "but DO NOT trample on the flowers. Before you begin you will be given a flag to stick into the ground near the judges. Yes, Daisy Cottontail - I'm one of the judges. But listen carefully to the rules.
"Because the bunnies are different sizes, unlike last year, we won't be judging the winner on the most found by a competitor - it will be by weight. Mr Chocolate tells me that the larger ones are better hidden but you should have long enough to find them. You will have twenty minutes to do your searching and bring your findings to your flag. Now keep listening during this. A bell will ring one minute before the end to give you a chance to bring your last findings and the bell will ring again to mark the end. After that, no more findings will count. Any questions?"
Inevitably there were. It took a while to explain that if you worked in a team, the total weight of the team's findings would be divided by the number in that team, but eventually everyone was happy. The children decided whether or not they wished to work alone and the flags were allocated.
Ben Hopkins decided to search alone, as did a few other children. A number formed family teams whilst some others joined together with their friends. Notably, all the Waters children decided to work as one big team - save Murky, who wanted to join with Oscar Marmalade and Basil Hazelwood's boys Twitch and Sniff. Twitch wondered if they were a little too old, but Eve assured them that it would be fine this year.
The starting bell rang, and the children ran in all directions, squealing with happiness.
I turned to Cecile. "I see Beverley has joined Biddie and Lisa Snow-Warren. Where's Brendan gone?"
She pointed in the opposite direction. "With Lucky and Coco Chocolate. He's promised to give half his plunder to Russell. He's a good lad."
"Plunder? Where's he got that from?"
"Lucky Snow-Warren has a book on pirates. It's all 'plunder' and 'aarr me hearties' recently. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
"I suppose that explains the hopping."
"Aarr," said Russell helpfully.
I rubbed his ear and looked towards the edge of the green where Brendan appeared from behind a tree, leapt over a flower bed and ran in our general direction. As he passed us he yelled, "Got one," and continued towards his flag.
It continued in this vein with children running in all directions until I heard the penultimate bell. It was then that the Waters children made their memorable appearance.
Misty was first, urging her brother and cousins towards their flag. Leo was next, jumping up and down saying "bunny bunny" over and over again. Next came Roger pulling a serving trolley with Crispin pushing from behind. On the trolley was the enormous gold-wrapped prize chocolate rabbit. Ripley, Lindsay and Lester were running in their wake - at least until Lester fell over. In the distance I could see their uncles Wally and Willie laughing.
"What are they doing?" Cecile said, watching them in fascination.
"Taking advantage of the rules, I suspect. That bunny will be some weight."
As expected, once the final bell had sounded, there were some different opinions as to the Waters children's interpretation of the rules. I won't reveal the judges' ruling!
As the day came to a close and we started to walk home, I glanced back towards the village green. Twitch Hazelwood's uncles - Burrell, Scully and Turnbull (better known as Burrow, Scurry and Tumble) of Mice & Clean - were helping with the cleanup, not that there was much mess. Niles and Daphne Chocolate were retrieving any undiscovered chocolate bunnies, and the other organisers were carrying the tables and flags back to the village hall.
"A good day," I commented.
Cecile, carrying a sleeping Russell, agreed.
Brendan and Beverley were tired too. They clung to their small sacks of chocolate bunnies and trudged along ahead of us, Beverley pulling Russell's toy behind her.
Over the next few days the final tradition of The Melting would take place. One by one, a chocolate bunny would be melted over a low heat, and sugared bread-sticks would be dipped into the melted chocolate and eaten slowly accompanied by mugs of cold milk. Judging the state of my dozy children, that tradition wouldn't be exercised tonight.
I heaved my accordion into a more comfortable position and, listening to the blackbirds sing, feeling the warmth of the late sun on my back, I found my mind wandering. On such a magical evening with thoughts of The Melting, maybe the Snow Queen wasn't a myth after all.
