I’ve lived in these parts all my life and am surely accustomed to wintry weather. Yet ever year I feel a twinge of sadness even as I’m enjoying fall because I know, soon enough, I’ll be facing a frozen-over windshield, fogged-up glasses and wet pantlegs from trudging though the snow.
I’m not anti-winter as some are. I always speak up in its defense. But the snow is so pretty! I love living where I can experience all four seasons. Shoveling is good for you!
Still, I’m not a big fan of freezing temps and stinging winds. I grimmaced a bit last week when I heard the word “snow” in the forecast. A forecast that delivered when we got a bunch of soggy stuff dumped on us last Friday, ringing in the month with a white landscape.
Something was different this time, though. I noticed it first when I took Juliette for a walk after dinner last night. The soggy stuff was followed by a lovely daylong deluge of fluffy stuff yesterday, and the sounds all around us were muffled by the blanket of goodness. As we stood at Burton and Plymouth, waiting for the light to change, I looked up into the black sky and saw fat, white flakes raining down on us. Clinging to Juli’s coat, to my hat. I gazed upward as the people in the cars around me were creeping along the roads in fear of a fender-bender. I was free. Navigating the sidewalks. Slipping and sliding as the flakes hit my cheeks. Laughing at my dog when she bent to sniff something and came up with a snout topped with fluff.
This morning I announced to Devin that we were going to the bookstore for an errand. He countered with, “No. Go outside, Mommy.” Heck, why not? Instead, we bundled into our gear, grabbed the sled and headed for the park. Last night’s playful flakes had glommed onto the tree branches and decorated the paths. I plopped the kiddo into the front of the sled, settled myself behind him and then we, courageous early birds, inaugurated the hill for the day, plowing through the white stuff during our speedy descent. We ended up sideways at the bottom of the hill, clumps of snow covering our faces and dripping down our chins. Giggles erupting into the still air.
We made the trek back up the hill and descended again. And again. And again. Snow filling our faces during every run. Snow went up my pantleg and up my nose. But I didn’t care. The moment was perfect. I was with my kid and I was having a blast. And the cold snow of winter had turned into something more magical to me.
3 thoughts on “Flaky”
And here I had the opposite thought today. It was in the upper 70s and I thought, “I can never live again in the midwest especially when it snows.” But, boy you make it sound so enticing. I like being out during a snowfall because it’s not as cold as when it’s not snowing (did that make sense?).
What a fun time you had with Devin!
Ah, sledding perfection.
That is so awesome!
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