18 min.
Michal a Tomáš mali obaja desať rokov a boli dvojčatá, hoci sa na prvý pohľad veľmi nepodobali. Michal bol o kúsok vyšší a mal rovné hnedé vlasy, zatiaľ čo Tomáš nosil vlasy kučeravé a aj jeho tvár bola o čosi okrúhlejšia. Boli to však bratia ako sa patrí – dokázali sa medzi sebou škriepiť kvôli maličkostiam, no keď prišlo na dôležité veci, vždy držali spolu. Bývali v starom rodinnom dome na okraji dediny. Dom mal obrovskú drevenú verandu a ešte väčšiu záhradu s ovocnými stromami, za ktorými sa rozprestierali role a lúky. Na dvore žili sliepky, kačky, dve kozy a jeden lenivý kocúr menom Félix, ktorý väčšinu dňa prespával na sene v stodole. Rodičia chlapcov sa venovali chovu zvierat a pestovali zeleninu a ovocie, takže okolo domu bolo stále živo.
To ráno, keď sa chlapci zobudili, ich privítal biely koberec snehu, ktorý sa cez noc usadil na tráve, strechách i stromoch. Záhrada sa zmenila na čarovnú zimnú krajinu. Michal s Tomášom k nej nadšene pribehli a prilepili sa tvárami na okennú tabuľu. Kým sa všetky hviezdy zimy stihli rozpustiť, museli vybehnúť von a všetko preskúmať. Rodičia im dovolili ísť do záhrady, až keď sa obaja naraňajkovali – teplý čaj, chlieb s maslom a medom, a na nohy hrubé ponožky a čižmy. Keď konečne vyšli na dvor, sneh im pri každom kroku vŕzgal pod nohami a vôňa čerstvého snehu sa miešala so studeným ranným vzduchom.
„Postavíme snehuliaka!“ skríkol Tomáš tak nahlas, že dvorom odrazu prebehlo celé kŕdlo sliepok, akoby ich bol niekto vyplašil. Michal sa zasmial. „Nó, lenže najskôr musíme mať tri veľké snehové gule. Máme ho spraviť pri bráne, aby ho všetci videli?“ navrhol. Tomáš pokrútil hlavou. „Nie, brána je ďaleko od domu. Chcem ho vidieť z izby, keď sa ráno pozriem z okna!“ A tak sa dohodli, že postavia snehuliaka presne uprostred dvora, medzi starou jabloňou a kurínom, aby sa mohli naňho pozerať aj z verandy.
Michal nabral na rukavice prvú kopu snehu a silno ju stisol do gule. Potom ju začal gúľať po dvore, až kým sa mu nenahromadila snehová guľa taká veľká, že ju sotva vláčil. Tomáš si medzičasom začal vyrábať svoju guľu – malú a určenú na hlavu snehuliaka. Snažil sa, aby bola čo najpevnejšia a najpravidelnejšia, pretože práve hlava je podľa neho najdôležitejšia. Michal sa po chvíli vrátil a spoločne ešte vytvarovali prostrednú guľu. So smiechom ťahali a dvíhali veľké snehové gule, až boli všetky tri na sebe. Len čo snehuliak stál, v hlbokom bielom snehu sa už začali črtať stopy a malé jamky po čižmách. Bola to namáhavá práca, ale obaja mali z výsledku obrovskú radosť.
„Dáme mu oči z uhlíkov a nos z mrkvy, však?“ navrhol Michal, hoci to bola klasika. Z domu priniesli dva kúsky čierneho uhlia a jednu dlhočiznú mrkvu. Tomáš navyše vyrukoval s planým pokusom nájsť kdesi starý plech na ústa, no nič vhodné sa mu nepozdávalo. Nakoniec vystrúhal z dreva tenkú krivú paličku, ktorú pripevnil na miesto úst. Vyzeralo to trochu komicky, no obom to pripadalo úplne perfektné.
Chlapci sa tešili, no stále niečo chýbalo. Každý správny snehuliak musí mať na hlave hrniec alebo aspoň klobúk. Michal sa rozbehol do kuchyne, že mame alebo otcovi zoberie nejaký starý kastrólik, no mama ho zarazila. „Chceš, aby som nemala v čom variť?“ povedala napoly s úsmevom. Tomáš si spomenul, že na povale je starý hrniec, ktorý kedysi slúžil prastarej mame. Nikto ho však už dávno nepoužíval – možno by bol dobrý práve na snehuliaka.
Vybehli po úzkych drevených schodoch do podkrovia, ktoré bolo plné starých krabíc, prútených košov a zaprášeného nábytku. Vo vzduchu sa vznášali drobné zrnká prachu a slabé lúče denného svetla ožarovali spleť pavučín v kútikoch starých stien. Prehrabávali sa haraburdím, až kým Tomáš nenarazil na starý hrdzavý hrniec. Bol menší a ľahký, akoby bol z tenkého plechu, ale mal osobitý šarm. „Tento bude ideálny,“ vyhlásil Tomáš. Michal len prikývol, hoci trochu pochyboval, či sa taký starý kus plechu nerozpadne pri prvom dotyku.
Keď sa vrátili na dvor, Tomáš opatrne položil hrniec na snehuliakovu hlavu. „Dokonané,“ skonštatoval hrdinsky. Vtom však Tomáš nadskočil, pretože sa mu zazdalo, že snehuliak pohol očami. Michal si to nevšimol, obdivoval hrniec. „Je presne taký, aký sme chceli! Akoby bol snehuliak z rozprávky,“ usmial sa. No vtom zafúkal jemný, no veľmi studený vietor. Snehuliak sa trochu zachvel a chlapci počuli čudný zvuk – ako keby niekto vzdychol.
Zrazu sa snehuliak obrátil ku chlapcom, privrel uhlíkové oči, napriamil hrniec na hlave a potichu, ale jasne prehovoril: „Ďakujem, priatelia! Myslel som, že nikdy nespatrím svet takto…“ Chlapci ostali stáť, akoby im nohy primrzli k zemi. Boli fascinovaní a vyľakaní zároveň. Nikdy nevideli a nepočuli hovoriaceho snehuliaka. Ani neverili, že je to možné.
Tomáš, ktorý býval odvážnejší, sa ako prvý spamätal. „T-ty… ty… dokážeš rozprávať?“ zakoktal. Snehuliak sa usmial: „Samozrejme. Veď mám hlavu, oči i ústa – a teraz aj tento čarovný hrniec. Zdá sa, že má zvláštnu moc.“ Michal zovrel bratovi rameno. „Počuj, Tomáš, nie je toto nejaký žart? Niekto nám tu nastražil reproduktor?“ Tomáš sa však iba usmial na brata. Z diaľky bolo jasné, že to nežartuje nik.
Snehuliak sa rozvažne rozhliadol dookola, akoby obdivoval dvor. „Je tu tak krásne. A toto je vaša domovina?“ spýtal sa, hlas mal mäkký ako čerstvo napadnutý sneh. Michal s Tomášom horlivo prikyvovali. „Áno, tu žijeme s rodičmi, s dvoma kozami, so sliepkami, kačicami a kocúrom Félixom,“ vyratúval Tomáš. „A je tu vždy pekne, ale v zime je to najkrajšie!“ doplnil Michal s iskrou v očiach.
Snehuliak sa zasmial a jeho smiech znel ako drobné cinkanie ľadových kryštálikov. „Tak to mám veľké šťastie, že som práve tu ožil. Nevedel som, kam ma sneh zaveje, ale zdá sa, že som si vybral skvelé miesto.“ Na chvíľu sa však zatváril vážne. „Ešte musím zistiť, akú silu to vlastne má ten starý hrniec,“ povedal. „Cítim, že máme pred sebou zaujímavé dobrodružstvo.“
Obaja chlapci stáli s roztvorenými ústami. Boli nadšení a zároveň cítili, akoby ich snehuliak pozýval do neznámeho sveta zázrakov. „Ako sa vlastne voláš?“ spýtal sa Michal. Snehuliak si prekrížil vetrom vytvarované paže a naklonil hlavu. „Volám sa… no, tuším som nikdy meno nemal. Možno mi ho vy dáte?“ navrhol. Chlapci sa na seba pozreli a nahlas premýšľali: „Snehuldo? Snehimír? Guľko?“ Tomáš sa rozosmial. „Nechajme to na neskôr. Najprv by sme ti mali ukázať celý dvor!“
A tak sa traja noví priatelia vybrali na obhliadku. Snehuliak, hoci nemal nohy, sa pohyboval zvláštnym spôsobom – akoby sa kĺzal po snehu. Čerstvý sneh, ktorý každú chvíľu ešte padal, mu pokrýval okraj hrnca a občas vytváral trblietavé vzory na jeho tele. Keď prišli ku kurínu, sliepky sa okamžite rozkotkodákali a šíril sa medzi nimi poplach. Nikdy predtým nevideli pohybujúceho sa snehuliaka! Kozám to však bolo v podstate jedno, ďalej si pokojne prežúvali seno vo svojej ohrade. Kocúr Félix bol takisto náramne prekvapený, no lenivo dvakrát mrkol a schoval sa hlbšie do slamy v stodole. „Vidno, že žiješ na statku,“ zasmial sa snehuliak. „Aj ja som len taký hosť v tomto svete, a mám z neho obrovskú radosť.“
Keďže bol víkend, chlapci nemali školu, a tak celý deň strávili so snehuliakom. Hádzali sa so snehovými guľami, robili anjelikov v snehu a snehuliak ich učil, ako počúvať zvuky vetra, ktorý sa preháňal ponad polia. V istom okamihu snehuliak naklonil hlavu a povedal: „Počujete to? Aj vietor má svoju pieseň. Šepká, že zima bude dlhá, ale krásna, plná bielych nocí a mrazivých rán.“ Chlapci zatajili dych a započúvali sa. Naozaj, keď sa utíšili, v tom tichu zimného dňa bolo počuť jemný hukot vetra a cinkavý zvuk ľadových kryštálov, ktoré narazili jeden do druhého. Nikdy by ich nenapadlo, že aj vietor môže „rozprávať“.
Snehuliak kĺzal cez dvor a radoval sa zo života. Prechádzali sa okolo starých stromov, kde konáre pripomínali zasnežené biele prsty. Tam niekde pri odkvapovej rúre stála vysoká skriňa na drevo, ktorú otec často používal, aby bolo drevo čo najbližšie ku kachliam. Snehuliak nazrel do škáry. „Všade je toľko zaujímavých vecí,“ povedal, „svet ľudí je mi taký neznámy, ale pritom úžasný.“ Poobzeral si obrovskú plechovú vaňu, v ktorej sa v lete kúpali psy od susedov, alebo starú pumpu na vodu, ktorú dedko opravil, aby sa dala používať ešte za najväčších horúčav. Teraz bolo všetko zababušené v snehu a vyzeralo to, akoby celý dvor zaspal.
Pred obedom si chlapci všimli, že snehuliak začína akosi slabol. Možno preto, že slnko na chvíľu vykuklo spoza mrakov a začalo hriať. Malé kvapky vody sa tvorili na jeho ramenách. „Sadneme si na verandu do chládku,“ navrhol Tomáš. A skutočne, keď sa tam snehuliak postavil, vyzeral, že jeho topenie sa spomalilo. Chlapci mu dokonca priniesli jednu mrkvu navyše, len tak, nech sa cíti ako doma. Aj keď ho nemali čím kŕmiť, veď to bol snehuliak!
„Aké je to byť človekom?“ spýtal sa znenazdajky snehuliak, zatiaľ čo pozoroval chlapcov. Tí sa zamysleli. Nikdy sa nad tým takto nezamýšľali. „Je to fajn… môžeme behať, jesť sladkosti, hrať sa…“ skúšal Michal. Tomáš dodal: „A tiež sa môžeme učiť nové veci a raz, keď vyrastieme, robiť, čo nás baví. Ale aj my máme svoje starosti – trebárs domáce úlohy, alebo pomáhať rodičom s krmením zvierat, odpratávaním snehu…“ Snehuliak sa usmial. „Znie to pekne a tak trošku komplikovane. Ja zase viem, aké je to byť stvorený zo snehu. Pocit chladu je pre mňa prirodzený, a taktiež ma vždy láka zima, snehové vločky a mráz. Takže každý z nás má svoje tajomstvá.“
Po obede – ktorý si snehuliak vlastne „odstál“ na verande, pretože jesť nepotreboval – prišla na dvor mama. Keď uvidela Tomáša a Michala, ako sa rozprávajú s pohyblivým snehuliakom, ostala na krátku chvíľu ohúrená. No mama bola žena s veľkým srdcom a ani v najmenšom nepochybovala, že v zimnom svete môžu nastať zázraky. Potichu zavolala chlapcov nabok a spýtala sa, či im nehrozí nebezpečenstvo. Tomáš ju ubezpečoval: „Nie, je to náš kamarát!“ Michal jej nadšene všetko rozpovedal, ako dal Tomáš na snehuliaka ten záhadný starý hrniec a on ožil. Mama iba pokrčila plecami a s úsmevom odvetila: „Tak si ho užite, kým je takto krásne chladno. Ale pozor, aby ste neprechladli, obaja ste celí mokrí od snehu!“ A vrátila sa do domu.
Tak sa začalo veľké zimné dobrodružstvo so snehuliakom, ktorého chlapci počas popoludnia nazvali Hrncovec. Keď sa ho opýtali, či sa mu meno páči, hlasno sa zasmial: „Hrncovec! To znie vtipne, ale pre mňa je to vzácne meno, lebo som ho dostal od vás!“ Chlapcom to prišlo roztomilé a originálne. A tak rozprávali Hrncovcovi o rôznych dedinských príbehoch – o strašidelnom dome na kopci, kde vraj strašia staré príbehy, o tom, ako sa chodievajú sánkovať na blízku lúku, alebo o tom, že raz za čas príde do dediny sám Mikuláš a roznesie deťom balíčky. Hrncovec počúval so zatajeným dychom, obzeral sa okolo a prikyvoval. Zdal sa byť hladný po každom slove, každú informáciu nasával ako suchá špongia.
Popoludní sa vybrali na krátku prechádzku za dedinu. Hrncovec s neuveriteľnou ľahkosťou kĺzal po zasneženom poli, nezanechávajúc takmer žiadnu stopu. Michal a Tomáš ťahali za sebou malé sánky, pretože dúfali, že sa tu bude dať i trošku posánkovať. Keď dorazili na mierny svah, ukázalo sa, že sneh je na to úplne ideálny – pevný a hladký. Hrncovec sa pozrel dole kopcom a prehlásil: „To vyzerá nebezpečne, ale zábavne!“ Tomáš mu navrhol: „Skús ísť s nami!“ A tak sa stalo, že sánky naložili chlapcov, a Hrncovec sa nimi nechal ťahať. Bola to skutočne zvláštna jazda: on sa zachytil za koniec sánok, a tak spoločne všetci traja svišťali dolu svahom. Hoci sa Tomáš s Michalom takmer prevrátili do snehu, v poslednej chvíli sa dokázali udržať. Smiech, ktorý ich zalial, bol úprimný a radostný, a ešte dlho sa ozýval po okolí.
„To bola paráda!“ radoval sa Michal, keď zastavili. Hrncovec sa neprestával usmievať. Aj keď jeho úsmev bol trochu krivý kvôli dreveným ústam, chlapci ho už vnímali ako kamoša s dušou. „Môžeme ešte raz?“ chcel vedieť Tomáš. A tak jazdili z kopca, kým sa nezačalo stmievať. Keď sa obloha prefarbila do oranžovoružových odtieňov, chlapcom došlo, že je čas vrátiť sa domov. Boli už uzimení a dedo, ktorý strážil dvor, určite očakával ich návrat. Snehuliakovi, pravdaže, zima neprekážala, ale súhlasil, že pôjdu späť, lebo vedel, že chlapci majú svoje povinnosti.
Keď prišli domov, bola už tma. Na dvore svietila malá lampa, ktorá osvetľovala chodník, aby rodičia videli, kam šliapu. Hrncovec vo svetle lampy vyzeral ešte magickejšie – akoby ho sneh rozžiaril. „Neostaneš stáť vonku sám?“ spýtal sa ho Michal, keď sa chystali do domu. Hrncovec hľadel na oblohu. „Ale ja mám rád noc. Hviezdy, mesiac, zasnežené okolie… V noci má sneh svoj vlastný život. Budem tu v tichu a klidu.“
Snehuliak ešte poprial chlapcom dobrú noc, a tak sa pobrali dnu. V izbe si dvojčatá vymenili dojmy z neobyčajného dňa a stále im z toho šlo vybuchnúť srdce od radosti. Na večeru sa podávala horúca polievka a chlebík s masťou a cibuľou – rodičia vraveli, že ich to zahreje. Kým zaspali, diskutovali o tom, že ich snehuliak je živý a želali si, aby sa im o tom aj snívalo.
Ráno sa zobudili na to, že sa z oblohy opäť sypú snehové vločky. Celý dvor bol zasypaný ešte vyššou vrstvou snehu. Tomáš s Michalom vybehli hneď na verandu. Hrncovec tam stál, tentoraz si radosť zo sneženia užíval naplno – jeho telo sa síce zväčšilo o novú vrstvu snehu, no on sám pôsobil spokojne. „Dobré ráno,“ privítal ich. „V noci som počul, ako sa sneh sype a vietor spieva. Záhrada je teraz ešte krajšia!“
Ten deň sa niesol v podobnom duchu – venovali sa hrám, pomáhali rodičom s odhadzovaním snehu a krmením zvierat, a vždy, keď mohli, vybehli k Hrncovcovi. Dal im pár neobvyklých tipov – ako počúvať, či vľavo za starou stodolou nežije nejaký malý ježko, ktorý náhodou nezaspal. Alebo ako sledovať vtáčie stopy v snehu, a podľa nich odhadnúť, či šlo o sýkorku, vrabca alebo drozda. Chlapci boli nesmierne ohúrení, ako veľa toho snehuliak vie, aj keď je „nový“ na svete. Možno to bola tajomná moc hrnca z povaly, vďaka ktorej získal aj schopnosť porozumieť prírode.
Prišiel však večer a s ním prudká víchrica. Vietor sa oprel do stromov tak silno, že ich konáre praskali, a sneh sa menil na pichľavú metelicu, čo bodala do očí. Rodičia chlapcom prikázali ostať vo vnútri, aby sa im nič nestalo. Oni však mysleli na Hrncovca, či je v poriadku. Tomáš vybehol aspoň na verandu a zakričal do tmy: „Hrncovec, si tam?!“ Vietor jeho hlas takmer prehlušil, no zdalo sa, že mu snehuliak odpovedal slabým zavolaním. Chlapci išli spať s nepokojom v srdciach, obávali sa, či ráno nájdu svojho snehuliaka na tom istom mieste.
Keď sa však rozvidnelo a vánok ustal, bežali k oknu a uvideli, že Hrncovec tam stále stojí – lenže… vyzeral akýsi iný. Hrniec bol nakrivo, sneh na ňom navial do všetkých strán. Vyzeral, akoby sa takmer rozsypal, no stále sa jemne hýbal. Tak sa rozbehli von. Chlapcom sa uľavilo, že Hrncovec žije a dýcha. Ale snehuliak mal smutný, unavený výraz. „Zdá sa, že vietor bol silnejší, než som čakal,“ priznal. „Trochu som sa rozpadol…“ Michal s Tomášom ho však neváhali opraviť. Zobrali čerstvý sneh a znovu mu vyformovali ramená i brucho. Hrniec mu narovnali na vrch hlavy.
„Ďakujem vám,“ riekol vďačne Hrncovec. „Ste praví priatelia.“ No potom stíšil hlas. „Cítim, že moja sila slabne. Aj hrniec sa zdá menej magický. Ako keby sa blížil môj čas…“ Chlapci stíchli. Predstava, že Hrncovec sa roztopí alebo jednoducho stratí, ich vystrašila. Nechceli, aby zmizol. „Nemôžeš ostať s nami navždy?“ spýtal sa Tomáš naliehavo. Snehuliak chvíľu mlčal, až potom s povzdychom povedal: „Sneh sa vždy časom roztopí. A čary, zdá sa, sú len dočasné. Ale nezúfajte, priatelia, všetko je to, ako má byť.“
Noc prišla rýchlo a opäť s ňou silné sneženie. Ráno sa Michal a Tomáš rozbehli na dvor, aby privítali Hrncovca. No zdesene zistili, že miesto, kde stál, je prázdne. V snehu boli vidieť len akési rozfúkané kúsky snehu, pri ktorých sa nedalo rozoznať, či kedykoľvek vytvárali telo. A hrniec? Po ňom nebolo ani stopy. Začali ho hľadať po celom dvore, obehli stodolu, kurín, záhradu, no našli len spadnuté konáre a čerstvé stopy po snehovej metelici. Boli ako bez duše. „To snáď nie, len tak zmizol?“ krútil hlavou Michal. Tomášovi sa tlačili slzy do očí. Ešte pred dvoma dňami s nimi rozprával, usmieval sa… a teraz tu nie je. Vedeli, že snehuliaci nevydržia naveky, ale nečakali, že ich kamarát Hrncovec odíde bez rozlúčky.
Mama a otec sa ich snažili potešiť, že snehuliaci sú takí – prídu a odídu. Že oni môžu byť šťastní, že vôbec mali toľko krásnych chvíľ. Ale chlapci to chápali len ťažko. Celý deň chodili posmutnelo po dvore a dúfali, že niekde objavia jeho hrniec alebo aspoň časť jeho tela. Nikde nič. Aj kocúr Félix sa obšmietal a očividne cítil, že chlapci sú smutní. Mňaukol na nich, chcel sa pritúliť, no ani to veľmi nepomáhalo. Navyše sa už zmrákalo, sneh ustal a na oblohe sa objavili bledé zimné hviezdy.
Keď si išli ľahnúť, obaja dúfali, že sa možno Hrncovec objaví v sne, alebo že ho nájdu ráno pri dverách, ako ich prekvapí. Lenže bol to ťažký večer a spať sa im nedarilo. Boli nesmierne sklamaní, akoby stratili vzácneho priateľa. Nakoniec však zaspali vyčerpaní a s očami vyplakanými do vankúša.
Ráno sa Tomáš a Michal lenivo pozreli von oknom. Sneh bol tichý a pokojný. A vtom Michal zatajil dych. „Tomáš, pozri! Pozri sa hore na oblohu!“ Tomáš vytrhol pohľad z okna a uvidel niečo neskutočné. Vysoko na oblohe sa vznášali obláčiky v tvare veľkej snehovej gule, na ktorej bola menšia guľa a ešte menšia guľa navrchu – ako keby sa tam zjavil snehuliakový oblak s naznačenou hlavou. A na tej hlave čosi, čo pripomínalo hrniec. Čosi ako – Hrncovec! Zdalo sa im, že dokonca vidia nejasný náznak uhlíkových očí a krivej drevenej paličky miesto úst, vytvarovaný z obláčkov. Ten oblak sa usmieval. Bol to úsmev, ktorý poznali.
„Je to on?“ vydýchol Michal. „Áno, určite. Usmieva sa na nás,“ pritakal Tomáš, zrazu úplne uvoľnený. V tom okamihu sa oblak pomaly presúval ponad dedinu, akoby chcel chlapcom naposledy zakývať, a potom sa postupne rozplynul. Ostali tam už len iné sivobiele mraky, z ktorých opäť začali padať biele vločky. Tomáš sa otočil k Michalovi. „Všetko je tak, ako má byť,“ zopakoval slová snehuliaka.
Chlapci vybehli von, hoci im mama ešte ani nestihla pripraviť raňajky. Vbehli do dvora, cítili, ako im tváre jemne chladí sneh. Už necítili sklamanie, skôr akúsi zvláštnu radosť. Nebo im poslalo znamenie, že Hrncovec je v poriadku. Možno teraz putuje po oblohe, alebo sa stal súčasťou inej zimnej krajiny, aby niekomu inému priniesol chvíle radosti. Ten kúsok kúzla sa však navždy zapísal do sŕdc Michala a Tomáša.
A hoci sa napokon na povale našiel polámaný hrniec, keď ho o týždeň na niečo hľadala mama, už nemal žiadnu čarovnú moc. Ako keby tá vzácna sila zmizla spolu s Hrncovcom. Ale nevadilo to. Obaja bratia vedeli, že na to, aby našli zázrak, niekedy stačí len kúsok obyčajnej viery a iskra priateľstva. Teraz, keď sa zdvihli oči k oblohe, videli tam príbeh – príbeh o snehu, priateľstve a kúzle, ktoré prebudil starý hrniec z povaly.
Michal a Tomáš sa už viac netrápili. Záhrada bola zasypaná bielym snehom, stopy utíchli, a oni mali v pamäti jeden z najkrajších zážitkov zimy. Vedeli, že zázračná chvíľa, ktorú im priniesol Hrncovec, im zostane. Presne ako sneh, ktorý každoročne príde, chvíľu pobudne a zase odíde, aj Hrncovec splnil svoju úlohu. Dvaja chlapci zistili, že veci, ktoré sa zdajú len dočasné, môžu mať trvalú ozvenu v ich srdciach.
A tak sa vrátili domov s úsmevom. Netušili, či sa Hrncovec niekedy ukáže opäť, ale stačilo, že im poslal obláčikový pozdrav, usmieval sa z neba a uistil ich, že je všetko tak, ako má byť. Sneh ďalej padal, stromčeky v záhrade sa ligotali pod bielou perinou, a chlapci sa pustili do nových plánov. Zajtra si chceli postaviť menšieho snehuliaka a aspoň na chvíľku si pripomenúť, aké je to mať vedľa seba zimného kamaráta. Možno Hrncovcovo kúzlo bude vždy v malej miere v každej snehovej guli, ktorú premenia na snehuliaka. A tak kračali vpred, a v srdci ich hriala tichá, pokojná radosť. Lebo niektoré kúzla sa už nikdy nestratia.
Snowman
18 mins.
Michael and Thomas were ten-year-old twins, even though they did not look very alike. Michael was a bit taller and had straight brown hair, while Thomas had curly hair and a rounder face. Sometimes they argued about small things, but when it mattered, they always stuck together. They lived in an old family house on the edge of a village. The house had a big wooden porch and an even bigger garden with fruit trees. Behind the garden, there were fields and meadows. On their yard, they kept chickens, ducks, two goats, and a lazy cat named Felix, who slept most of the day on the hay in the barn. Their parents raised animals and grew vegetables and fruit, so there was always work and life around the house.
One morning, when the boys woke up, they saw a fresh blanket of snow covering the grass, roofs, and trees. The yard looked like a magical winter land. Michael and Thomas ran to the window and pressed their faces against the glass. They wanted to go outside right away, but their parents said they could only go after breakfast. So they quickly ate bread with butter and honey, drank hot tea, and then put on their thick socks and boots. When they finally stepped out into the yard, the snow crunched under their feet, and the cold morning air smelled of fresh snow.
“Let’s build a snowman!” Thomas shouted so loudly that all the chickens in the yard started to flutter about as if something had scared them. Michael laughed. “Sure, but we need three big snowballs first. Should we build it near the gate so everyone can see it?” he asked. Thomas shook his head. “No, the gate is too far from the house. I want to see the snowman from my window when I wake up!” So they decided to build the snowman in the middle of the yard, between the old apple tree and the chicken coop, where they could see it from the porch as well.
Michael scooped some snow with his gloves and pressed it into a firm snowball. Then he started rolling it around the yard until it became so big he could barely move it. Meanwhile, Thomas made a smaller ball for the snowman’s head. He tried to make it as round and solid as possible because, for him, the head was the most important part. After a while, Michael rolled another big ball to use for the snowman’s middle. They laughed a lot while lifting the heavy snowballs on top of each other. Finally, the snowman was standing tall in the middle of the yard. Their footprints dotted the white yard, and they felt proud of their hard work.
“We’ll give him coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose, right?” Michael said. It was the traditional way. So they found two pieces of coal and one long carrot in the house. Thomas tried to find something for the mouth—maybe an old piece of metal—but nothing was quite right. In the end, he carved a small, slightly curved stick from a piece of wood and used it as the mouth. It looked a bit funny, but they both thought it was perfect.
The snowman was almost finished, but something was missing. Every proper snowman needs a hat or a pot on his head. Michael ran to the kitchen to grab an old pot from his mom or dad, but his mom stopped him. “Do you want me not to have anything to cook in?” she asked with a smile. Then Thomas remembered that there was an old pot in the attic that had once belonged to their great-grandmother. Nobody had used it in a long time. Maybe it would be just right for the snowman.
They climbed the narrow wooden stairs to the attic, which was full of dusty boxes, wicker baskets, and old furniture. Sunlight shone through the tiny windows, making the dust particles sparkle in the air. They searched through the clutter until Thomas found a small rusty pot. It seemed fragile, like thin metal, but it had a special charm. “This one is perfect!” Thomas said. Michael nodded, though he worried the pot might break when touched.
When they returned to the yard, Thomas carefully placed the pot on the snowman’s head. “Done!” he said proudly. Suddenly, Thomas jumped. He thought he saw the snowman move its eyes. Michael was busy admiring the pot. “It’s just what we needed—like a storybook snowman!” he said. Then a light, icy wind blew, and the snowman trembled a little. The boys heard a strange sound—like someone softly sighing.
All at once, the snowman turned to face them. He blinked his coal eyes, straightened the pot on his head, and spoke in a quiet, clear voice: “Thank you, my friends! I never thought I would see the world like this…” Michael and Thomas froze, their feet seemed stuck to the ground. They were amazed and scared at the same time. They had never seen or heard a talking snowman. They hardly believed it was possible.
Thomas, who was braver, was the first to speak. “Y-you… can talk?” he stammered. The snowman smiled. “Of course. I have a head, eyes, and a mouth—and now this magic pot. It seems to have special power.” Michael grabbed Thomas’s shoulder. “Thomas, is this some kind of joke? Did someone hide a speaker inside him?” But Thomas just shook his head. He could tell it was no trick.
The snowman turned slowly, as if admiring the yard. “It’s so beautiful here. Is this your home?” he asked, in a soft voice that reminded them of fresh, falling snow. Michael and Thomas nodded eagerly. “Yes, we live here with our parents, two goats, chickens, ducks, and our cat Felix,” Thomas said. “It’s always nice here, but winter is the best!” added Michael, his eyes shining.
The snowman’s laughter sounded like the gentle tinkling of ice crystals. “I’m lucky to be here. I didn’t know where the snow would form me, but it seems I chose a wonderful place,” he said. Then he looked more serious. “I want to find out exactly how strong the magic in this old pot is,” he said. “I feel we have an interesting adventure ahead of us.”
The boys just stood there with their mouths open, feeling like the snowman was inviting them to discover a magical world. “What is your name?” Michael asked. The snowman tilted his head to one side. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a name. Maybe you can give me one?” he suggested. The boys looked at each other and started brainstorming: “Snowy? Frosty? Mr. Snowpot?” Thomas laughed. “Let’s decide later. First, we should show you around the yard!”
And so, the three new friends went on a tour. The snowman, although he had no legs, moved in a curious way—he seemed to glide over the snow. Fresh snowflakes kept falling and dusted the edges of his pot, forming sparkling patterns on his body. When they reached the chicken coop, the chickens started clucking loudly. They had never seen a moving snowman before! The goats in their pen didn’t care much; they just kept chewing hay. As for Felix the cat, he stared for a moment, then lazily blinked and went back to sleep on the barn’s straw. “You sure live on a busy farm,” the snowman said with a smile. “I am just a visitor in your world, and I love it here.”
Because it was the weekend and there was no school, the boys spent the whole day with the snowman. They threw snowballs, made snow angels, and the snowman showed them how to listen to the sounds of the wind blowing across the fields. “Do you hear it?” he whispered. “Even the wind has its own song. It says the winter will be long but beautiful, full of white nights and frosty mornings.” The boys held their breath and listened. In the silent winter day, they truly heard a gentle whoosh of wind and the slight tinkling of ice crystals touching each other. They had never realized wind could “talk.”
The snowman glided around the yard, enjoying his new life. They passed by old trees whose branches looked like white, snowy fingers. Near the barn’s gutter, there was a big wooden box for firewood that their father used to keep logs dry in winter. The snowman peered inside a small gap. “There are so many interesting things here,” he said. “Your human world is strange to me, but it’s wonderful, too.” He also looked at a large metal tub used for washing dogs in summer, and an old water pump that their grandfather fixed so it could work even in the hottest weather. Now, everything was under a soft, white blanket of snow, like it had all gone to sleep.
Around lunchtime, the boys noticed that the snowman seemed weaker. Maybe the sun was peeking out and warming the yard, causing little drops of water to drip from his body. “Let’s sit on the porch in the shade,” Thomas suggested. Indeed, once the snowman moved to the porch, he stopped melting so quickly. The boys even brought him an extra carrot, just so he could feel more welcome—though he couldn’t really eat it, of course!
“What does it feel like to be a human?” the snowman asked suddenly, observing the boys with curiosity. They thought about it. They had never asked themselves that question. “Well, it’s good. We can run, eat sweets, and play games,” said Michael. “And we can learn new things in school. One day, we can do what we really like. But we also have homework, we must help our parents feed the animals and shovel snow,” Thomas added. The snowman nodded. “That sounds nice, but also a bit complicated. I, on the other hand, know what it’s like to be made of snow. I never feel cold, and I’m always drawn to snowflakes and ice. So everyone has their secrets.”
After lunch—which the snowman did not need—Mom came to the yard. She saw Michael and Thomas talking to a moving snowman and froze for a moment. But she had a big heart and believed that in winter, magical things could happen. Quietly, she asked the boys if it was safe. Thomas explained, “He’s our friend!” Michael told her about the old pot that made him come to life. Mom just shrugged and smiled. “Enjoy your time together, but don’t catch a cold. You’re both soaking wet!” Then she went back into the house.
So began a big winter adventure with their new friend, the snowman. In the afternoon, they decided to give him a name—“Potman” in their language. “Do you like it?” they asked him. He laughed: “It sounds funny. But for me, it is a special name because it comes from you!” The boys were happy and proud of their idea. Then they told Potman stories about their village—about a spooky house on the hill, where people said ghosts wandered; about sledding on a snowy slope nearby; and about how Saint Nicholas sometimes visited the village to bring children gifts. Potman listened closely, as if memorizing every word and gazing around with wonder.
Later in the afternoon, they went for a short walk to the fields behind the village. Potman glided across the snowy ground without leaving any tracks, while Michael and Thomas pulled a small sled behind them. They hoped to do some sledding on a gentle slope. When they arrived, they saw it was perfect for sledding—firm and smooth snow. Potman looked down the hill. “It looks dangerous, but also exciting!” he said. Thomas suggested, “Try it with us!” So they all got on or behind the sled. Potman held on to the back. Together, they raced down the slope. Thomas and Michael almost tipped over, but at the last second, they stayed upright. Their laughter rang out across the field.
“That was awesome!” Michael said when they reached the bottom. Potman kept smiling—his smile looked a little crooked because of his wooden mouth, but to the boys, it felt warm. “Can we go again?” Thomas asked. They went up and slid down over and over until the sky began to turn orange and pink. Then they realized it was time to go back because it was getting late. The boys were cold, and their grandfather would expect them home. Potman, who never felt cold, agreed to return, too. He understood the boys had their chores and family duties.
When they got back, it was already dark. A small lamp lit the yard, so everyone could see the path. In the light, Potman looked even more magical—the snow seemed to glow around him. “Won’t you be alone out here?” Michael asked. Potman looked up at the sky. “I love the night. The stars, the moon, the quiet snowy world… In the night, the snow has its own life. I will be fine here in the peaceful darkness.”
Potman wished them a good night, so the boys went inside. They couldn’t stop talking about their extraordinary day. Their hearts were full of excitement and wonder. Over dinner—hot soup and bread with lard and onions—they told their parents some parts of their day. Then they went to bed. But before falling asleep, they kept thinking about their new friend outside in the snow.
The next morning, they woke up to more falling snow. The yard was covered in an even deeper white layer. Michael and Thomas ran straight to the porch. Potman was there, happy to feel the fresh snow. His body seemed bigger because of the new snowflakes sticking to him, and he looked content. “Good morning,” he greeted them. “I listened to the wind all night. It told me stories, and it brought more snow. The yard is even more beautiful now!”
That day went similarly. The boys played with him, helped their parents shovel the paths and feed the animals, and went back to Potman whenever they could. He taught them funny things—like how to listen by the old barn wall to see if a little hedgehog might still be awake. Or how to recognize bird footprints in the snow—was it a sparrow, a titmouse, or a blackbird? They were amazed at how much the snowman seemed to know, even though he was “new” to the world. Maybe that old attic pot not only gave him life but also allowed him to understand nature in a special way.
At dusk, a fierce windstorm arose. The wind blew strongly through the trees, and branches made cracking sounds. The snow whirled around in sharp gusts that stung their faces. The parents ordered the boys to stay indoors for their safety. But they worried about Potman. Thomas went to the porch and shouted into the dark, “Potman, are you okay out there?” The wind nearly drowned out his voice, but he thought he heard a faint answer. They went to sleep, uneasy in their warm beds, hoping their friend would still be there in the morning.
When the storm finally passed and daylight returned, the boys rushed to the window. They saw Potman still standing in the yard, but he looked different. The pot was tilted to one side, and fresh snow was piled around him. It seemed like he could fall apart at any moment, but he was still moving slightly. The boys hurried outside, relieved to see he was still alive. But his face looked tired. “The wind was stronger than I expected,” he admitted. “I almost fell to pieces.” Michael and Thomas quickly brought fresh snow and packed it around his body, fixing his arms and middle. They gently set the pot back on his head.
“Thank you,” Potman said softly. “You are true friends.” Then he lowered his voice. “I feel my strength leaving me. It seems the pot’s magic is growing weaker. Maybe my time is almost up.” The boys fell silent. They knew snowmen usually do not last forever, but they did not want to lose their special friend. “Can’t you stay with us?” Thomas asked with tears in his eyes. The snowman stayed quiet for a moment. Then, he spoke. “Snow always melts eventually. And magic doesn’t last forever. But don’t be sad. Everything is as it should be.”
That night, the wind picked up again. Snow fell in heavy flurries, and the world turned white. In the morning, Michael and Thomas ran to the yard, hoping to say hello to Potman. But he was gone. Only strange lumps of snow remained where he used to stand. There was no sign of the old pot. The boys searched everywhere—behind the barn, near the chicken coop, in the garden—but they only found broken branches and fresh snow. They were heartbroken. “He just disappeared?” Michael whispered, looking around in disbelief. Thomas’s eyes filled with tears. They had seen him laugh and talk just a day before, and now there was no trace of him.
Their parents tried to comfort them: “Snowmen always come and go. You should be happy you had him at all.” But it was hard for the boys to accept. All day, they walked around sadly, hoping to find the pot or a part of his body. Even Felix the cat seemed to notice their sadness and rubbed against them, meowing, but it didn’t help. As night fell, the snow stopped, and a few pale stars appeared in the sky.
When bedtime came, they both wished that Potman would visit them in their dreams or be there the next morning. But they were tired and fell asleep with tears in their eyes.
Early the next day, Thomas and Michael glanced out of the window. Everything was quiet, the yard once again blanketed with soft snow. Then Michael gasped. “Thomas, look! Look at the sky!” Thomas raised his eyes. High up among the clouds, they saw a group of cloud shapes in the form of a large ball with a smaller one on top, and then an even smaller one—like a giant snowman in the sky. And on its head, there seemed to be something shaped like a pot. It looked exactly like Potman! They thought they could even see two little spots for eyes and a slightly crooked mouth. The cloud snowman was smiling.
“Is that him?” Michael breathed. “Yes, it must be. He’s smiling at us,” Thomas said, relief washing over him. Slowly, the cloud snowman drifted across the sky, as if waving goodbye one last time. Then it faded, leaving only ordinary gray-white clouds. Soon, delicate snow began to fall again. Thomas turned to Michael with a calm smile. “Everything is as it should be,” he said, echoing Potman’s words.
They ran outside right away, feeling the cold snowflakes on their cheeks. Their sadness had turned into a quiet joy. The sky had shown them Potman was safe. Maybe he was traveling somewhere in the clouds or moving on to another snowy place to bring happiness to someone else. But for Michael and Thomas, the special magic they shared with him would always remain in their hearts.
A week later, their mom found a broken metal pot in the attic, but it had no special powers anymore. It was as if the magic had gone away with Potman. The boys did not mind. They knew that sometimes, believing in something magical is enough to make it real. Whenever they looked up at the winter sky, they remembered their friend, the snowman who came alive and shared his wonder with them.
Michael and Thomas no longer felt sad. Their garden was quiet under the snow, and they carried inside them one of the most beautiful experiences of winter. They learned that some things, though they don’t last forever, can leave a lasting memory. Snow arrives and melts, but the joy they had with Potman will stay with them. From then on, every time they built a new snowman, they imagined a little spark of Potman’s magic in it.
With the snowfall continuing, the trees in the garden shone under a white blanket. Michael and Thomas went inside, warm in their coats, planning new adventures. Tomorrow, they might build a smaller snowman for fun. Maybe the magic would not be the same, but they knew a piece of Potman’s spirit lived in every snowflake. And that thought brought them peace and happiness. After all, some wonders never truly disappear. They remain in our hearts—just like the memory of a smiling snowman wearing an old attic pot on his head.