Snow for Maya

There is a small gray hut on a green hill. Inside the hut is the weather machine for the town. Sven works there. It is his job to make the weather nice.

The machine is big and old. It has many silver pipes and one red button. On Mondays it makes rain for the farmers. On Saturdays it makes sun for the market. Sven likes his work. He drinks tea and reads a book.

One hot afternoon, a girl knocks on the door. She is eight years old. She has a yellow hat and a very serious face.

"Hello," she says. "My name is Maya. Can you make snow?"

Sven laughs. "Snow? It is summer."

"I know," says Maya. "Tomorrow is my birthday. I never see snow. My town is always warm. My grandfather lives far away. He sends me photos of snow. I want to touch it."

Sven looks at her. He looks at the machine. He scratches his head.

"The machine makes only small clouds," he says. "And snow is hard. I do not know if it works."

"Please try," says Maya.

Sven puts on his glasses. He turns a blue wheel to the left. He turns a green wheel to the right. He pushes the red button. The pipes make a long, loud sound.

They go outside and look at the sky. A small cloud comes. It is white and round. Then it starts to rain. The rain is warm. It falls on the grass.

"That is rain," says Maya.

"Yes," says Sven. "Wrong wheel. Let us try again."

He goes back inside. He turns the blue wheel more. The machine makes a cold, soft sound. Outside, a thin white fog moves across the hill. It gets into Maya's hat. Her nose gets red.

"That is fog," she says.

"Yes," says Sven. "Better. But still not snow."

He sits down and thinks. He opens a drawer and finds an old paper. It is a note from the maker. It says, "For snow, make it cold and slow."

"Slow," Sven says. "Of course."

He turns the blue wheel to the end. Then he waits. He waits one minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Maya sits next to him. She does not say a word. Her hands are cold, and her eyes are big.

Then the machine makes a tiny click.

"Come," says Sven.

They run outside. A small gray cloud sits over the school yard. The yard is at the bottom of the hill. The cloud is only as big as a bus. And from it, something white falls, slowly, slowly.

"Snow!" says Maya.

She runs down the hill. Sven walks behind her. Her yellow hat is the only bright thing there. The snow falls on her arms and her shoes. It does not stay for long. In five minutes, the cloud is thin. Then the snow stops.

But for five minutes, it is winter in summer. Two children on the road stop and look. A woman comes out of the bakery. She has a white cake in her hands. Everyone is quiet.

Maya stands in the school yard. She opens her mouth wide. She catches one flake on her tongue.