Ivy and the Three-Tailed Snow Dragon

I had a dragon to build before the snow on our lawn melted, and I already knew exactly how its tail should curl.

The fresh snow lay fluffy and white from the porch steps to the garden fence. It made the whole backyard look like a giant frosted cake. My little brother, Cole, came outside in his puffy blue coat, carrying a small red bucket.

“Is the dragon going to breathe fire?” he asked.

“Not real fire,” I said. “Maybe pretend fire. It’s a snow dragon.”

I pointed to the place beside the Christmas wreath on the fence. The dragon would have a strong body, four sturdy legs, a proud head, and one long tail curled like a cinnamon roll.

Cole looked at the snow. “Can it breathe snowballs?”

“Only tiny ones,” I said. “And only at pretend castles.”

We began with the body. I scooped snow into a huge heap and pushed it with both mittens. The snow slid apart like flour. I tried to pat it into a round shape, but it puffed away from my hands.

“Hold still, dragon,” I told it.

The snow did not listen. It fell apart again, leaving me with a lumpy pile and two white mittens.

Cole tried to help by giving the pile a gentle nudge. A whole side slumped down.

“Oh,” he said. “The dragon is melting before it’s even born.”

“It’s not melting,” I said. “It’s just being difficult.”

I tried rolling a big snowball across the lawn. It gathered a little snow, then broke into soft pieces. I pushed the pieces together. They scattered again.

The dragon in my mind had a broad back and a tail that curled high. The dragon in the yard looked more like a sleepy pancake with a bump.

I sat back on my boots. The snow was so fresh and fluffy that it wouldn’t stick together when we tried to make big pieces. I could almost hear the afternoon ticking away while the sunshine peeked through the clouds.

Cole set his bucket in the snow. “Maybe my bucket can make a tiny dragon,” he said.

I watched him scoop snow into it. He pressed down with both mittens, packed in another scoop, and pressed again. Then he tipped the bucket over.

A neat little block of snow sat on the ground.

Cole blinked. “Look! It stayed!”

I leaned closer. “Wait a minute. I think I know how to build my dragon.”

Cole grinned at his little snow block. I looked at the bucket, then at the floppy heap that was supposed to be a dragon.

“We don’t need one enormous pile,” I said. “We can make the dragon from lots of small, packed pieces!”

Cole handed me the bucket. We scraped away the soft top layer near the evergreen and found snow underneath that was a little damp. It pressed together when we squeezed it. I packed that snow into the bucket, pressing it firmly with my mittens. Cole filled his bucket with smaller scoops and pushed them down with the bottom of a wooden spoon.

“Careful,” I said. “That’s a dragon tool now.”

“It’s a very important dragon tool,” Cole agreed.

We tipped out one packed section, then another. I lined the sturdy blocks up beside the wreath, making a long, low body. Each section held its shape. I pressed snow into the little gaps so the pieces joined together.

Cole made four small packed shapes for legs. He tucked them under the body, one at a time. The dragon stood a little crooked, as if it had just woken up from a nap.

“Strong legs,” Cole announced. “For walking to the snack table.”

“Dragons don’t go to snack tables,” I said.

“This one might,” he replied. “It looks hungry.”

I shaped a rounded head from packed snow and set it at the front. Two small dark pebbles became eyes. I made the tail from several smaller packed pieces, bending them around until the end curled up.

The last piece wobbled.

“Stay,” I whispered. I pressed it gently into place. It leaned left. Cole held his breath. I pushed a little more damp snow around its base and smoothed it with my mitten.

The tail stood curled and proud.

“It holds!” Cole cheered.

I stepped back to admire the dragon. It had a strong body, four legs, bright pebble eyes, and a curl like I had pictured. But now I noticed the space beside its tail. It looked a little too empty.

“A dragon this grand,” I said, “deserves three tails.”

Cole’s eyes grew wide. “Three cinnamon rolls!”

We packed two more tails from small pieces. Cole pressed them into place, and I smoothed their joins. One curled left. One curled right. The last curled straight up, as if it were waving hello.

We pressed the final tail gently. It stayed firm beside the others. Our dragon stood with three splendid curls, guarding the wreath.

The three-tailed dragon looked even grander when we stood beside it. Its pebble eyes seemed to sparkle in the soft afternoon light, and its curled tails made funny shadows on the snow.

Cole walked around it slowly. “I think it’s watching the fence,” he whispered.

“Dragons are good at watching,” I said. “Especially when they have three tails to help them balance.”

Cole tilted his head. “Do tails help with balance?”

“They do when I say so,” I answered.

He gave the dragon a tiny bow. I bowed too, and one of my hat pom-poms flopped over my eyes. Cole giggled so hard he had to sit down in the snow. I laughed with him, then brushed the snow from my hat.

The dragon stayed sturdy. Its packed body held together, and the damp snow we had pressed into the seams kept the little sections snug. The fluffy snow around it glittered in the fading light. A few quiet flakes drifted down and landed on its back.

“Now it has dragon freckles,” Cole said.

We left the dragon beside the wreath, where it could watch over the backyard. I imagined it standing guard all night, keeping an eye on the snowy lawn and the sleeping garden. Its three tails curled like ribbons behind it.

The air was growing dim and rosy, and the windows of our house glowed warm. Mom opened the back door and called that cocoa was ready. Cole looked back at our dragon.

“Will it be here tomorrow?” he asked.

“If the weather stays cold,” I said. “And even if it changes, we’ll remember how it stood.”

We waved to the dragon and went inside. Warm air wrapped around us. I peeled off my mittens, and Cole set his red bucket by the door. From the kitchen came the sweet smell of cocoa.

As I held my warm mug, I pictured the dragon guarding the wreath beneath the quiet sky. Its three tails curled proudly in the snow, while Cole and I settled in for a cozy evening.