No plans are made. No invitations are extended.
But at the first whiff of the possibility of snow in the air, long after winter has departed, the little ones creep out of their hiding places.
It doesn’t take them long. This is one of those events they eagerly wait for every year – like New Year’s Eve or birthdays – an unanticipated fall of snow in the midst of spring.
Everyone has a designated role; some bring out the cakes and the paper plates and the drinks and the glasses, some others bring out the harps and the fiddles, while yet others gather dry sticks and get a small fire crackling.
But the privilege of tying up the hammock goes to the oldest ones who know it will be their last party.
And because they are so old and have learnt everything there is to know about life, they invite everybody else to join them on the hammock for one last night of celebration.
When the last song is sung and the last dance is danced, they wake up the birds and the squirrels and beseech them to hop on the snow-laden branches of the trees and shower the ground with fresh snow so that their tracks may be covered. Well, almost!