Between noon and 8pm yesterday we received just over a foot of snow. The towns in the area all had early dismissals so my 11 year old was home and ready to frolic. Around here we make snowpeople and snow angels. And soberboy likes to gobble up snow as if it were candy. I haven't convinced him yet that shoveling can be fun.
This storm dropped light fluffy snow, the kind that is easy to shovel and that melts on your eyelashes. We don't have any hills around here so we have to travel if we want to do any sledding. In this one area I feel that my son is missing out on something special. When I was a kid we only had to cross the back yard to slide down a hill on whatever contraption we could drag up the hill.
Got a Happy Story is a community gathering every Friday night where we share stories large and small that have put a smile on our face. It is a time to acknowledge the joy and wonder we experience. The Happy Story diary exists as a way to anchor the community in hope and comfort while we do the hard work of taking back our country. Everyone and all sorts of stories and pictures are welcome. May we find joy and strength here.
I grew up in New Hampshire back before global warming was a huge factor. Snow storms during my childhood were significant and winter was symbolized by the snow mountain in the front yard. We shoveled the snow back then; it wasn't until my youngest sister was in high school that my folks had a plow come over. All of the snow ended up in the front yard which was bounded by the public sidewalk, the sidewalk to the door, the porch and the driveway.
On big snow winters the mountain would end up higher than the porch roof. When my mother went into work my Dad would sneak us out the window onto the porch roof. Then he'd toss us into the mountain. It was great fun but never happened around my mother. I think it was my father's way of experiencing childhood--rebeling and being the bad boy for once in his life. I think my mother knew, we weren't great at keeping secrets, and she just humored my Dad and let him think he was getting away with something.
In the winter there was no tv in the afternoon. If the weather was lousy we'd read and do homework. But if the weather was remotely decent we'd bundle up and head outside. Our back yard had a small slope but our backyard neighbors had a steeper hill that stretched the length 3 backyards. We'd use metal flying saucers, wooden sleds, and plastic sleds. We'd go individually or pack 2 or 3 of the 5 of us on one sled. Our dog would chase us down the hill, barking, and pulling off our hats or mittens trying to slow us down. Our cheeks would be bright red, our noses running, and our exhaled breath like smoke in the air. We felt so alive. We'd still sled when it was dark because lights would be on in every house surrounding the hill. And we grumbled when my mother insisted we come in for dinner.
Sometimes we'd travel to go sledding, like soberboy has to now. My favorite, particularly as a teen, was a treacherous slope called Twin Toes that used to be a ski slope. Sometimes it was sheer ice and it was quite a trick to execute a turn at the bottom without ending up in the road or falling off and getting a concussion. The danger factor was a total rush when I was an idiot teen.
Other times we'd sled at my paternal grandmother's farm. There was a decent hill from the barn down into the pasture. Sometimes cousins would be there also and we'd fight over sleds or try to smash into each other going down the hill.
Do you have any happy memories of snowstorms or any other happy stories you'd like to share tonight? Eddie C will be back next week when he isn't working like a dog. Send him relaxing thoughts and mojo while he's working 16 hour days.