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| by Carol Abbott © |
| I'm not too fond of snow even though it is very pretty to look at. Mostly I don't like it because I like to be able to go to the grocery store or run errands when I want to and I DO NOT like to drive on slick streets. So snow generally means that I'm stuck in the house and I get to feeling some major cabin fever. However, I must admit that some of the most beautiful scenes I have ever witnessed were covered in that fluffy white stuff. Several years ago, in April, my husband and I were driving back to Missouri from Phoenix. as we approached the mountains in Colorado, they were glowing in a wondrously deep blanket of white. Now, I have admired the beautiful Colorado Rocky Mountains many times over the years, from the very first time that I saw them when I was about ten years old, but I had never seen them at the end of a great, snowy winter. They were magnificent. A couple of years ago, Kansas City had an especially picturesque snowfall in mid-December. The snow clung to all surfaces and especially to the branches of evergreen bushes and trees. Driving through the neighborhood after dark was a treat for the eyes. The outside Christmas lights, which are always abundant in our suburban neighborhood, glowed through the snow covered bushes, tinting the snow in shades of blue, red, green and yellow. When I don't have to worry about anyone I know and love being out driving on snow-slicked streets, I can relax and admire just how beautiful the snow makes everything look as it covers the dormant brown grass and bare winter landscape that exists in Missouri during the typical winter. And when the snow makes city streets treacherous, I know that my grandkids are snuggled in early morning beds with fingers crossed that school will be called off. Yippee! Snow Day! |
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The very best snows, though, for me were experienced in my childhood. Waking up to
heavy snow was like winning the lottery, 'cause it meant a day when the schools would be
closed. We would bundle up really good and carry the sled down from the attic and
"head out to the slopes". All the other kids would show up at about
the same time, like we'd planned this in advance. We were really lucky to live on a
dead-end street, without much traffic. It was just hilly enough to make a really
cool train of sledders. We'd play until we felt like popcicles, with our toes and
fingers almost numb, then go in the house to stand over the floor furnace and thaw out
while Mama made us cocoa.
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