A story that will warm your heart, globe

It was a warm winter night when Harriet was chopping onions in the kitchen for dinner. Just as she raised a hand to her tingling nose, her husband Marcus walked in.

"Wow, is it gorgeous out there!" he announced. "And it's the middle of December!"

But Harriet was less than pleased.

"Thanks to you and your SUV-driving buddies. This warm weather is a bad thing, Marcus. Have you heard of Global Warming? If it keeps up there will be no more polar ice caps. Not to mention coastal cities."

But Marcus could not be budged from cloud nine.

"I wasn't even planning on visiting the ice caps." he rebutted, clearly missing the point. "Oh, man. It's like autumn out there. You gotta come see." He motioned for the door.

"No thank you," was the curt reply.

"What's the matter?" Marcus asked. Harriet wiped a tear from her eye with the front of her wrist. She sliced through another onion, and then turned around to face Marcus.

"Nothing, except that everyone is enjoying this so-called wonderful weather when they really should be thinking about the environment, because the Earth is dying Marcus, can't you see?"

With tears dripping down her face, Harriet continued.

"And no one cares, because they all love their beautiful warm weather -- well it's not right," and her face contorted slightly from emotion, "and you shouldn't be so happy about it," and now full sobs stifled her rant, "the Earth is dying Marcus, because of pollution, and SUVs and aerosol cans! Why doesn't anyone care?"

Harriet was bawling now, her hands, covered in onion fluids, hanging awkwardly at her sides. Marcus wanted to console her, but he hesitated when he looked at the knife dangling from her left hand. Instead, he edged over to her side and placed his hand gingerly on her shoulder; with the care one would reserve for a box of glass vials filled with nitroglycerin.

"There, there," he said. "Why don't we go for a walk? Maybe this lovely weather will cheer you up."

Harriet's fists clenched and the knife was erect. Marcus recoiled, flying from Harriet's shoulder. She looked at him with wide eyes. She was not just angry, but bewildered.

"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying? No one listens," and the broken sobs spilled out once more, "why doesn't anyone care what I have to say? The Earth is dying, and dinner is ruined, and no one listens and now I'm crying!" And she released a long caterwaul of despair; Marcus just scratched the back of his head and watched this early-evening meltdown.

"Come on," he said gently. "It's the onions. They make everybody cry."

But the flood continued. By now Harriet had put down the knife and started wiping her eyes with the insides of her wrists and forearms. Marcus was quiet but desperate to put an end to this emotional deluge.

"Hey, Harr-iet," he said in a sing-song way. But she didn't respond.

"Hey, maybe tomorrow it will be colder. Would that make you feel better?" He tried.

Harriet looked up.

"Maybe. As long as the temperature is consistent with historical averages," she sniffed. Looking the ground she repeated quietly, "the Earth is dying."

But Marcus had no idea what she just said. "Well, I heard it might snow tomorrow," he lied. Harriet stopped crying.

"Really? Oh, I hope so Marky, I really do. I don't want the Earth to die... I love you."

Then she exhaled with a sigh, "onions always me cry, don't they?"

He nodded. And as Harriet turned to resume the chopping of onions for dinner, Marcus walked over to the cabinet under the kitchen sink and grabbed various aerosol cans. Picking them up with both hands, he marched toward the side door. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," he said.

Harriet looked over at Marcus with the aerosol cans and then up at him -- with surprise and then joy: she had thought Marcus didn't understand.

But Marcus understood fully. Walking around the house, he arranged the aerosol cans on the picnic table in the backyard and, one-by-one, dispensed their contents into the unseasonably mild night air.