Snow...What It Means

Shawna_xxx_ via Photobucket

 

 

I want to put something down on this blog everyday; something that will strike a spark in other people, not just filler. That said…

 

…what I am going to write about today. Snow. That’s what I am observing as I stare out the window right now.

 

First of all it’s white. Sure there are some marks on the perfection like those tire tracks and some dog prints (are they dog or some other beasty), but for the most part it is pristine. Since I live in a very small town, I expect it will stay that way for the most part. I can just go to the surrounding mountains if I want to see anything even more pristine; the problem would be getting there at this point.

 

Most people probably think of purity when they see snow because of the silence and the white. I think of cold, but also of times when I enjoyed the snow with my brothers as a boy.

 

We lived on this little farm (32 acres) in Northwest Missouri where snow and cold are known to accumulate. We had a large front yard with a sizeable hill that sloped down to a gravel road. Since not many people ventured down the lane, especially at the height of winter, we were free to sled down our hill, across the road and into the catch fence across the way (This fence was actually a welded wire pig fence with a few strands of barbwire on top. I don't remember any of us getting hurt while running into it, but what do boys care about that anyway).

 

Our typical sled was whatever we could grab that would slide. Sometimes we had old pieces of barn tin that my dad would confiscate and throw away (something about tetanus) if he saw us using them. But the best sled ever was this flat piece of stainless steel about 1/4" x 3' x 6'. Two of us could ride at a time and this thing flew. The only problem was that it was flat. We tried to guide it as best we could, but aside from the hand or foot drag, there was no reliable means of making it go a certain way. And as I said before it flew. So, by the time we wanted to guide it a certain way, around an obstacle for example, we were already there and it was too late. I got many a Charley Horse from that sled, but boy was it fun. The rides were intense. Both scary and exciting.

 

Besides the sledding we also liked to tromp around the place (remember there were 32 acres to explore) and make snow caves, have snowball fights and just generally see how the world was different after a new blown snow. Most of the time we would try to find places where the wind had piled the snow to some large degree so that we could burrow into it and have a reasonable cave to hide in. Within these little caves we would stay relatively warm and plant them as the basis for ambush operations. We four boys were within a few years of each other (oldest only five years older than the youngest), so we were pretty evenly matched. The fights could be epic, but the snow lent a softening effect to our struggles so they rarely ended in any prolonged temper.

 

If it was cold enough we would go down to the creek and test the viability of the ice thereon. To do this we would find a big piece of cut wood or a branch and throw that onto the surface. If it went through, it was not stable enough for sliding, but if it didn't...well. We weren't engineers by any means (though our dad was) so the concept of distribution of mass meant nothing to any of us. We would throw the log down and let that be the determination of stability. We often got soaked for our trouble, but that didn't matter.

 

That was about three decades ago and we all get older and wiser (some of us anyway). I haven't been sledding in a few years and I doubt I would find the same comfort in a snow cave. But, when I look out at the snow I still see four laughing, yelling boys who were up to having fun. It is one of those cherishable memories and brought me and my brothers closer. A closeness that we have never sacrificed.