SNOW!

I get this whimsical thrill walking down a plowed sidewalk with snow piled high on either side, so there is only a narrow, clean path for me to follow. I've come up with two reasons for this: 1) It makes me feel like I live in Lapland in a magical castle of ice and snow, and 2) It reminds me of being little and playing fox and geese in our backyard. We'd watch from the kitchen window with our mom while my dad went out to create a giant maze of paths, and then we'd run around on these narrow little walks pretending to be geese outrunning the fox. My dad taught us well to love snow. We had enough chance early on in Wyoming (see above,) but of course took advantage of every opportunity the Midwest offered, after that.

 Last night when it continued to snow for 8 hours, I knew what my dad would be thinking. He'd be fantasizing about the giant hill in their backyard and the sled run he had lost when the last snow had melted - but now it would be rebuilt! Now the neighbor kids could come over! Now his staff could bring their families! Now there would be more runs - BETTER RUNS! (My mom said she didn't care. She wasn't going out there. If she was going to serve hot cocoa and operate a ski lift, she was going to get paid for it.) He even created a slalom run last week through the trees on the East edge. I felt for certain that I was doomed to crash at the last second, but amazingly made it through.

Now, if you ever thought about wanting to be one of those people who never gets old, then you might want to take lessons from my dad. He apparently refuses to believe he's aged at all, and didn't find anything strange or funny about a man who is almost 60 yrs old going out sledding alone on a Saturday morning to prepare the hill for his grand-daughter. He actually seemed a bit offended that I would suggest it was silly. (All right, but in my defense, their backyard is bordered by two fairly frequented streets, with no privacy fence. Maybe I had too much pride on my mind.) Then a few days later, after he had sufficiently gotten winter fever, I had to convince him to stay in from going out sledding alone at 8:30pm. He thought I was being ridiculous. "Have you ever sledded by moonlight? Its magical!"

I missed the first excursion to the hill. My older brother and his young family went out Saturday morning first, with their dog. Of course, my dad was more than eager to go out again the next day for my benefit, and I was able to convince my 3 yr old niece to come back out for a few more runs. She didn't last long, and resigned herself to eating icicles off the porch railing. I tried taking the dog down with me. Apparently she had enjoyed it the day before. Unfortunately, the first time she got tangled in the rope jumping off the sled. The next time, she panicked halfway down and we crashed. Didn't seem to mind, though. It takes a lot to deter a dog from a good snow. Case in point: she then came bounding across the yard and tackled me mid-flight on my next go.

It's exhilarating, always. Trudging through the white powder, crashing into the soft cold. The chill biting at your face, but the energy of it all keeping you warm. I adore a good snow, and everything it brings - the paradoxical wonderland of adventure and quiet peace.