I woke up to snowplows and window scrapers at five and my curiosity drove me out of bed to see what all the fuss was about. Hardly anything! A few more inches of snow fell, but nothing like what it sounded like.
Snow, when I was a child in Vermont, drifted up to the second floor of our farmhouse and we had great fun jumping off the porch roof into it. We also tunneled, built forts, and enjoyed snow in whatever way we could. Sledding or skiing – not the way you think of it, but a pair of old six foot narrow pieces of wood (probably an ancient pair of cross country types) with a leather strap in the middle to tie your boots on. Of course we hardly ever made it to the bottom of the hill but that was expected. We also retrieved the new snow for a unique treat, “sugar on snow” – boiled maple syrup drizzled on a bowl of snow. Those were the days–really–of uninhibited fun and adventure.
In Colorado we skied, usually on off days, until it got too expensive, and drove to a place to sometimes participate but mostly watch grandkids sledding. I often wish my kids and grandkids could have experienced the fun and freedom I had.
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