Go on, you probably think the ole girl has lost her marbles. Yes, we’ve had cold temperatures that get right into your bones, but no snow! How can it be winter without that “white” stuff?
Back in the ‘40s, a major snow fall meant picking up shovels and helping Dad and the neighbors shovel out the wide shared driveway. We always snuck in a few “snow angels” on the unblemished, soft snow before joining the shovel brigade.
There was an ulterior motive in helping. Because there was so much snow, we built the neatest forts on each side of the driveway complete with carved out windows to see the enemy. The neighbor kids did the same. Then we’d crunch down behind our respective walls and have the Queen Mother of all snowball fights! Naturally, we had to re-shovel the battlefield when the “war” was over. Our snow suits would be soaked and we could ring out our mittens by the time we headed indoors for well-deserved hot chocolate and cookies from Mom.
Some years later, Dad bought a commercial, self-propelled snow blower, his toy, if you will. This machine really packed the snow and created mounds of snow perfect for our forts. I can picture him wearing his knitted hat, gloves and heavy jacket moving up and down the driveway with a big grin on his face.
Winter memories wouldn’t be complete without recalling the monster sled trail/jump created years ago by my sons and friends in our side yard—they hosed it down with water thus creating a completely iced over trail. When the project was complete, they trudged across the street and up the neighbor’s driveway with their sleds. I held my breath as they flew down the hill, across the street, up and over the jump, back down with a bang, whizzing down the ice-slicked side yard off into the woods. Laughing and yelling all the way, they experienced some nasty wipe-outs as they roared by. Ah, once again, history repeated itself: like their parents before them, the boys and their friends trooped into the family room and hung up wet jackets, soaked gloves and put boots in the furnace room to dry. They sat around excitedly talking about their wonderful adventure. True to form, I came in with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies—just like our mother did for us.
Hey, Lonnie Quinn, how about predicting a Nor’easter or at least a good-sized snow storm! Picture this: me sitting in my favorite chair with a snugly Sherpa wrap over my legs, watching the gently falling snow on the deck; a lovely fire crackling in the fireplace and a mug of my favorite coffee. Ah, such a cozy picture, isn’t it? Hmm, Mom always cautioned us to be careful for what we wished for. You’re right, Mom, but I still want some snow!