I don't know what it's like to grow up with snow. My earliest memories of the stuff are from family vacations to Bear Valley and Lake Tahoe, when I was already 6 or 7. And even then it was only a novelty, a once or twice a year thing. At home in Walnut Creek I would be amazed how, in the middle of winter, some mornings there would be this light layer of rime on the wooden steps out front. It was slick, and if you braced your legs just right, you could sort of slide a little. And that was it.My children will grow up with snow. It will be present outside all winter every year of their childhood. They will sled and build snowmen once they're old enough, know the heart-thumping excitement of a snowball fight, savor the crisp air as silent flakes settle one by one on their outstretched hands. They will "help" with the shoveling, fall backwards into snow angels, dig tunnels in the snow banks. And I will watch them and I will watch their faces, and I will know what it is like to grow up with snow.
The best part of growing up with snow is coming inside with cold cheeks and slightly numb fingers, shucking off your many layers, and warming up with a mug of hot chocolate.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Kate. There is something quite wonderful about hanging up crusty mittens to dry.
ReplyDeleteI can't imaging growing up without snow. My friend from work is from California and before she moved here to go to school, she had only seen snow once. Very strange to me, but I'm sure drastically changing season must be very weird to experience for those who grew up without them.